Those  Brewster  Children 


The  occasion  was  not  wholly  barren  of  material 
for  a  trained  psychologist    (page  56) 


Those  Brewster  Children 


By 
Florence  Morse  Kingsley 

Author  of  "  The  Singular  Miss 
Smith,"  "And  So  They  Were 
Married,"  etc. 


With  Illustrations 
By  Emily  Hall  Chamberlain 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  &  Company 
1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
By  PHELPS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1910 
By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published,  March,  1910 


Cwyin'?"  he  observed  in  a  bird-like  voice 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  occasion  was  not  wholly  bar- 
ren of  material  for  a  trained 
psychologist  (page  56)  .  .  Frontispiece 

"  Cwyin'  ?  "   he   observed    in 

a  bird-like  voice          .      .     Facing  page      146 

"  She'll  remember  it,  you'll 
find,  better  than  one  of 
Mrs.  Stanford's  whip- 
pings" "  "  182 


2227853 


ELIZABETH  BREWSTER  sat  by  the  window  of 
her  sewing-room  in  the  fading  light  of  the 
winter  afternoon.  She  had  been  straining  her 
eyes  a  little  over  her  work  and  the  intent  look 
did  not  leave  them  as  she  glanced  out  into  the 
gathering  dusk.  She  could  see  all  three  of 
the  children  at  their  play  on  the  lawn.  Car- 
roll, tall  and  sturdy  for  his  eight  years ;  Doris 
slim  and  active,  her  reddish  blond  hair  stream- 
ing out  from  under  her  hood  and  blowing 
about  her  eager  little  face,  and  three-year-old 
Baby  Richard,  toiling  manfully  to  keep  up 
with  the  others  as  they  piled  damp  snow-balls 
into  the  rude  semblance  of  a  human  figure. 

"  Darlings ! "  murmured  the  mother  to  her- 
self, a  happy  light  seemingly  reflected  from 
the  red  winter  sunset  shining  on  her  face. 
She  raised  the  sash  a  hand's  breadth  and  called 
to  them,  "  Come  in  now,  children ;  it  is  grow- 
ing too  cold  for  Richard  to  stay  out  any 
longer." 

She    glanced    regretfully    at    her    unfinished 


2  Those  Brewster  Children 

sewing  as  she  rose,  gathering  up  thread,  scis- 
sors and  thimhle  with  the  absent-minded  care- 
fulness born  of  long  habit.  Something  was 
scorching  on  the  kitchen  range,  she  feared,  a 
well-founded  distrust  of  the  heavy-handed 
Norwegian  maid  hastening  her  steps  down  the 
precipitous  back  stairway. 

The  range  was  heated  to  redness,  and  sev- 
eral saucepans  huddled  together  over  the  hot- 
test place  were  bubbling  furiously.  Celia,  the 
maid,  was  setting  the  table  in  the  dining- 
room,  with  slow,  meditative  motions  like  those 
of  an  ox.  She  did  not  appear  at  all  disturbed 
at  sight  of  her  mistress  hurriedly  dashing 
water  into  one  of  the  utensils,  from  which  arose 
an  evil-smelling  steam. 

"  Oh,  Celia !  how  many  times  must  I  tell  you 
to  cook  the  vegetables  in  plenty  of  water?  " 
demanded  Mrs.  Brewster,  in  despairing  tones. 
"  And  look !  your  fire  is  almost  up  to  the  grid- 
dles. Have  you  shaken  it  down  this  after- 
noon?" 

The  girl  shook  her  big  head  with  its  untidy 
braids  of  straw-coloured  hair.  "  Naw ! "  she 
observed  explosively,  after  a  pause  filled  with 
the  noise  of  descending  ashes. 


Those  Brewster  Children  3 

*'  You  should  say  *  no,  Mrs.  Brewster,*  or 
'  no,  ma'am,' "  her  mistress  said,  with  an 
obvious  effort  after  self-control.  "Try  not  to 
forget  again,  Celia.  Now  you  may  go  up  to 
your  room  and  make  yourself  tidy  before  you 
finish  dinner." 

The  girl  obeyed  with  the  heavy,  lurching 
steps  of  one  crossing  a  ploughed  field.  Eliza- 
beth, hurriedly  opening  doors  and  windows 
to  the  frosty  sunset  caught  sight  of  her 
three  children  still  busy  about  their  snow 
image. 

"  Carroll,  dear ! "  she  called,  "  didn't  you  hear 
mother  when  she  told  you  to  come  in?  " 

The  boy  turned  his  handsome  head.  "  Yes, 
mother;  I  did  hear  you,"  he  said,  earnestly, 
"  an'  I  told  Doris  to  go  straight  into  the  house 
an'  bring  Richard ;  but  she  wouldn't  go.  I  had 
to  finish  this  first,  you  see,  'cause  I've 
planned " 

"  Come  in  now,"  interrupted  his  mother,  fore- 
stalling the  detailed  explanation  sure  to  fol- 
low. "  Come  in  at  once !  " 

The  boy  dropped  the  snow-shovel  with  which 
he  was  carefully  shaping  the  base  of  his  im- 
age. "Don't  you  hear  mother,  Doris?"  he 


4  Those  Brewster  Children 

demanded  in  a  clear,  authoritative  voice. 
"  You  must  go  right  in  this  minute  an'  take 
Buddy." 

The  little  girl  thrust  out  the  tip  of  a  saucy 
pink  tongue  at  her  brother. 

"  Mother  said  you  too,  Carroll  Brewster ;  you 
don't  have  to  tell  me  an'  Buddy.  Does  he, 
mother?  " 

"Carroll!  Doris!" 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  tone  of  the 
mother's  voice.  The  baby,  suddenly  conscious 
of  cold  fingers  and  tingling  toes,  ran  toward 
her  with  a  whining  cry,  his  short  arms  out- 
stretched. The  others  followed  slowly,  ex- 
changing mutinous  glances. 

"  Carroll  is  always  trying  to  make  me  an* 
Buddy  mind  him;  but  we  won't,"  observed 
Doris,  emphatically  kicking  her  overshoes 
across  the  floor. 

"  All  three  of  you  should  obey  mother  every 
time,"  chanted  Elizabeth  in  the  weary  tone  of 
an  oft-repeated  admonition.  She  sighed  as 
she  added,  "It  is  very  naughty  to  argue  and 
dispute." 

"  But  you  see,  mother,  I'm  the  oldest,"  be- 
gan Carroll  argumentatively,  "  an'  I  generally 


Those  Brewster  Children  5 

Know  what  the  children  ought  to  do  just  as 
well  as  anybody." 

He  hung  up  his  hat  and  coat  and  set  his  over- 
shoes primly  side  by  side  with  a  rebuking 
glance  at  his  small  sister,  who  tossed  her  mane 
of  hair  at  him  disdainfully. 

"  I  see  you've  forgotten  what  mother  said 
about  overshoes,  Doris,"  he  whispered  with  an 
air  of  superior  merit  which  appeared  to  exas- 
perate the  little  girl  beyond  endurance.  She 
leaned  forward  suddenly  and  a  piercing  squeal 
from  the  boy  announced  the  fact  that  virtue 
frequently  reaps  an  unexpected  reward. 

"  Doris  pinched  my  ear  hard,  mother,"  he 
explained,  winking  fast  to  keep  back  the  un- 
manly tears.  "  I  didn't  even  touch  her." 

Elizabeth  looked  up  from  kissing  and  cud- 
dling her  baby.  "  Oh,  Doris  dear ;  how  could 
you!  Don't  you  love  your  little  brother?" 

The  little  girl  flattened  herself  against  the 
newel-post,  her  brown  eyes  full  of  warm,  danc- 
ing lights.  "  Sometimes  I  do,  mother,"  she 
said,  with  an  air  of  engaging  candour;  "an* 
sometimes  I  feel  jus' — like  biting  him !  " 

Elizabeth  surveyed  her  daughter  with  large 
eyes  of  pained  astonishment, 


6  Those  Brewster  Children 

"  You  make  mother  very  sorry  when  you  say 
such  naughty  things,  Doris,"  she  said,  se- 
verely. "  Hang  up  your  coat  and  hood ;  then 
you  must  go  up-stairs  to  your  room  and  stay 
till  I  call  you." 

In  the  half  hour  that  followed  Elizabeth  gave 
her  youngest  his  supper  of  bread  and  milk  and 
hurried  him  off  to  bed,  endeavouring  in  the 
meanwhile  to  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon  the  op- 
erations of  the  heavy-handed  Celia,  now  ir- 
reproachable in  a  freshly  starched  cap  and 
apron,  and  an  attentive  ear  for  Carroll  prac- 
ticing scales  and  exercises  in  the  parlour. 
Later  there  was  a  salad  to  make,  which  involved 
the  skilful  compounding  of  a  French  dressing, 
and  last  of  all  a  hurried  freshening  of  her  own 
toilet  before  the  quick  opening  of  the  front 
door  announced  the  advent  of  the  head  of  the 
house. 

Elizabeth  was  fastening  her  collar  with 
fingers  which  trembled  a  little  with  the  strain 
of  her  multiplied  activities,  when  she  heard 
her  husband's  voice  upraised  in  joyous  greet- 
ings to  the  children.  "  Hello  there,  Carroll, 
old  man !  And  daddy's  little  girl,  too !  " 

She  had  entirely  forgotten  Doris,  and  that 


Those  Brewster  Children  7 

young  person  had  quite  evidently  escaped  from 
durance  vile  into  the  safe  shelter  of  her  father's 
arms.  After  all,  it  was  a  small  matter,  Eliza- 
beth assured  herself;  and  Sam  disliked  tears 
and  unpleasantness  during  the  hours,  few  and 
short,  he  could  spend  with  the  children.  Prom- 
ising herself  that  she  would  talk  seriously  with 
the  small  offender  at  bed-time  she  ran  down 
stairs  to  receive  her  own  greeting,  none  the  less 
prized  and  longed  for  after  ten  years  of  mar- 
ried life. 

Her  husband's  eyes  met  her  own  with  a 
smile.  "  Betty — dear ! "  he  whispered,  pass- 
ing his  arm  about  her  shoulders.  Doris  from 
the  other  side  peered  around  at  her  mother, 
her  bright  eyes  full  of  laughing  triumph. 

"  If  I'm  not  very  much  mistaken,"  her  father 
said  mysteriously,  "  there's  something  in  my 
coat  pocket  for  good  children." 

Doris  instantly  joined  her  brother  in  a  race 
for  the  highly  desirable  pocket,  and  the  two 
were  presently  engaged  in  an  amicable  division 
of  the  spoils. 

"  You  mustn't  eat  any  candy  till  after  dinner, 
children,"  warned  Elizabeth. 

Doris  had  already  set  her  sharp  white  teeth 


8  Those  Brewster  Children 

in  a  bonbon,  when  her  father's  hand  inter- 
posed. "  Hold  hard,  there,  youngsters,"  he 
said ;  "  you  heard  the  order  of  the  court ;  no 
candy  till  after  dinner." 

"  Just  this  one,  daddy,"  pouted  Doris.  "  I 
think  I  might."  She  swallowed  it  quickly  and 
reached  for  another. 

"  Not  till  after  dinner,  young  lady,"  and 
the  pasteboard  box  was  lifted  high  out  of 
reach  of  small  exploring  fingers. 

*'  Oh,  Sam,  why  will  you  persist  in  bringing 
home  candy?  "  Elizabeth  asked,  with  a  sort  of 
tired  indulgence  in  her  voice.  "  You  know 
they  oughtn't  to  have  it." 

"I  forgot,  Betty.  Please,  ma'am,  will  you 
'xcuse  me,  just  this  once — if  I'll  never  do  it 
again?" 

His  upraised  hands  and  appealing  eyes  were 
irresistibly  funny.  Elizabeth  laughed  help- 
lessly, and  the  children  rolled  on  the  floor  in 
an  ecstasy  of  mirth. 

When  presently  all  trooped  out  to  dinner 
neither  parent  observed  Doris  as  she  nibbled  a 
second  bonbon. 

"  Oh-o-o !  You  naughty  girl !  "  whispered 
Carroll  enviously.  "Where  did  you  get  that?  " 


Those  Brewster  Children  9 

"  Out  of  the  box,"  replied  the  small  maiden, 
with  a  toss  of  her  yellow  head.  "  Um-m,  it's 
good;  don't  you  wish  you  had  some?" 

"  Mother  said " 

"Don't  talk  so  loud;  I'll  give  you  half!" 

"  It's  most  all  gone  now.  I'll  tell  mother,  if 
you  don't  give  me  all  the  rest."  And  the  boy 
reached  masterfully  for  the  coveted  morsel. 

"  You're  such  a  rude  child  you  oughtn't  to 
have  any,"  observed  Doris,  nonchalantly  be- 
stowing the  debatable  dainty  in  her  own  mouth. 
"  If  you  tell,  I'll  call  you  « tattle-tale  ' !  "  she 
said  thickly ;  "  then  the'  won't  either  of  us 
get  any." 

Carroll  scowled  fiercely  at  this  undeniable 
statement.  His  father  did  not  encourage  un- 
manly •  reprisals. 

"  You're  an  awful  selfish  child,  Doris,"  he  said 
reproachfully,  "  an*  that's  worse  'an  being 
rude;  mother  said  so.  It's  worser  'an  any- 
thing to  be  selfish.  I  wouldn't  do  it;  guess  I 
wouldn't ! " 

"I  am  not  selfish!" 

"You  are,  too!" 

"  Cliil—dren!  " 

Their    mother's    vaguely    admonitory    voice 


10         Those  Brewster  Children 

caused  the  belligerents  to  slip  meekly  enough 
into  their  respective  seats.  They  were  hun- 
gry, and  the  soup  smelled  good.  But  their 
eyes  and  explorative  toes  continued  the  skir- 
mish in  a  spirited  manner. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Evelyn  Tripp  to-day," 
Elizabeth  was  saying,  as  she  fastened  the  chil- 
dren's long  linen  bibs.  "< Sit  up  straight 

in  your  chair,  Doris,  and  stop  wriggling." 

Sam  Brewster  cast  an  admonitory  eye  upon 
his  son.  "  Evelyn  Tripp ! "  he  echoed,  "  I 
haven't  heard  you  mention  the  lady  in  a  long 
time.'* 

"You  know  they  left  Boston  last  year  and 
I  hardly  ever  see  her  now-a-days.  Poor 
Evelyn!" 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  he  said  with  mock  solicitude. 
"  Now,  if  you  hardly  ever  saw  me  it  would  be 
'  poor  Sam,'  I  suppose." 

"The  Tripps  lost  most  of  their  money,"  she 
went  on,  ignoring  his  frivolous  comment ;  "  then 
they  moved  to  Dorchester." 

He  helped  himself  to  more  soup  with  a  rem- 
iniscent smile.  "Worse  luck  for  Dorchester," 
he  murmured. 

"  Why,    Sam,"    she    said    reprovingly.    "  Of 


Those  Brewster  Children         11 

course  Evelyn  was — Evelyn;  but  she  was  as 
kind  as  could  be  just  after  we  were  married, 
and  before,  too.  Don't  you  remember?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  remember  perfectly.  We  were 
pawns  on  the  chess-board  in  Miss  Tripp's  skil- 
ful hands  for  awhile,"  he  agreed  drily.  "  She's 

a  Napoleon,  a — er — Captain  of  Industry, 
a »» 

"Please  don't,  Sam,"  interrupted  Elizabeth. 
"  Poor  Evelyn  has  been  very  unfortunate,  and 
I'm  sorry  for  her.  She — wants  to  come  and 
make  us  a  visit,  and  I " 

An  appalling  thump  and  a  smothered  squeal 
marked  the  spot  where,  at  this  crucial  point  in 
the  conversation,  Doris  suddenly  disappeared 
from  view.  Her  father  stooped  to  peer  under 
the  cloth. 

"  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  were  try- 
ing to  do,  Doris  ?  "  he  demanded,  as  he  fished 
his  daughter  out  from  under  the  table  in  a 
more  or  less  dishevelled  condition. 

"  It  was  Carroll's  fault,  daddy,"  replied  the 
child.  "  He  kicked  me  under  the  table,  an* 
course  I  was  'bliged  to  kick  him  back;  an*  I 
did  it!" 

Her   air   of   sparkling  triumph   provoked   a 


12          Those  Brewster  Children 

smile  from  her  father;  but  Elizabeth  looked 
grave. 

"  I  really  think,"  she  said,  "  that  Doris  ought 
to  go  upstairs  without  dessert.  You  know, 
Doris,  you  disobeyed  mother  when  you  came 
down  without  leave." 

The  little  girl's  eyes  flashed  angry  fire.  "  Car- 
roll kicked  me  first,"  she  pouted,  "  an'  I 
couldn't  reach  him;  he  wasn't  fair  'cause  he 
got  'way  back  in  his  chair  on  purpose;  you 
know  you  did,  Carroll  Brewster ! " 

Elizabeth  turned  judicially   to   her  son. 

"  No,  mother,"  explained  the  boy,  "  I  didn't 
really  kick  Doris;  I  just  put  out  my  toe  and 
poked  her, — just  a  small,  soft  poke ;  you  know 
it  didn't  hurt,  Doris ;  but  I  did  squeeze  back  in 
my  chair  so  you  couldn't  reach  me."  His  can- 
did blue  eyes,  so  like  his  father's,  looked  full 
into  hers. 

"  Well,  in  view  of  the  evidence,  I  propose  that 
you  suspend  sentence,  Betty,  and  let  them 
both  off,"  put  in  the  head  of  the  house. 
"  You'll  be  a  good  girl  and  keep  your  toes 
under  your  chair,  won't  you,  Dorry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  daddy,  I  will,"  promised  the  little  girl, 
gazing  up  at  her  father  from  under  her  curved 


Those  Brewster  Children          13 

lashes  with  the  dimpled  sweetness  of  a  youthful 
seraph.  "  I  do  love  you  so,  daddy,"  she  cooed 
gently.  "I  feel  just  like  kissing  you!" 

Her  father  caught  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
pressed  half  a  dozen  kisses  on  her  rosy  cheeks 
before  depositing  her  in  her  chair.  "  Remem- 
ber, girlie,  you  must  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  or 
your  mother  will  whisk  you  off  to  bed  before 
you  can  say  Jack  Robinson."  He  cast  a 
laughing  glance  across  the  table  at  his  wife. 
"  You  see  we  all  stand  in  proper  awe  of  you, 
my  dear ! " 

"  Oh,  Sam ! "  murmured  Elizabeth  reprov- 
ingly; but  she  laughed  with  the  children. 


II 


WHEN  the  militant  young  Brewsters  were  at 
last  safely  bestowed  in  bed,  Elizabeth  sank  into 
her  low  chair  with  an  involuntary  sigh  of  re- 
lief— or  fatigue,  she  hardly  knew  which. 

"  Tired,  dear?  "  asked  her  husband,  glancing 
up  from  his  paper.  "  I  suppose  you've  put  in 
a  pretty  hard  day  breaking  in  the  foreigner. 
But  you're  doing  wonders.  The  dinner  wasn't 
half  bad,  and  the  mechanic  didn't  break  a  sin- 
gle dish  in  the  process;  at  least  I  didn't  hear 
the  usual  crash  from  the  rear." 

She  smiled  back  at  him  remotely.  She  did  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  report  the  scorched  po- 
tatoes, or  the  broken  platter  belonging  to  her 
best  set  of  dishes. 

"I  was  thinking  about  Doris,"  she  said. 

Her  husband's  eyes  lighted  with  a  reminiscent 
smile.  "  Little  monkey ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  She 
slid  down  the  banisters  like  a  streak  of  light- 
ning and  flew  into  my  arms  before  I  had  time 
to  take  off  my  overcoat.  She  said  she  was 
sitting  on  the  stairs,  waiting  for  me  to  come. 
14 


Those  Brewster  Children         15 

Not  many  children  think  enough  about  see- 
ing their  old  daddy  to  sit  on  the  stairs  in  the 
dark!" 

"  I'm  really  sorry  to  undeceive  you,  Sam ;  but 
I  had  sent  that  child  up  to  her  room,  and  told 
her  to  stay  there  till  I  called  her!"  Elizabeth 
informed  him  crisply. 

"  Wherefore  the  incarceration,  O  lady 
mother?" 

"  She  was  very  naughty,  Sam ;  she  pinched 
Carroll,  and  when  I  reproved  her  for  doing  it, 
she  said  she  felt  like  biting  him.  Think  of 
that!  Of  course  I  had  to  do  something." 

"  What  had  Carroll  done  to  provoke  the  can- 
nibalistic desire  on  the  part  of  the  young 
woman?"  he  wanted  to  know,  with  judicial 
calm. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  except  to  remind  Doris  to 
hang  up  her  coat  and  put  her  overshoes  away, 
as  I've  told  them  both  to  do  repeatedly." 

His  mouth  twitched  with  an  amused  smile. 
"And  Dorry  punished  him  promptly  for  his 
display  of  superior  virtue — eh?  Well,  it  may 
be  very  much  out  of  order  for  a  mere  father 
to  say  so,  but  I'll  venture  to  express  the  opin- 
ion that  it  won't  hurt  Master  Carroll  to  get 


16          Those  Brewster  Children 

an  occasional  snubbing  from  somebody.  He's 
a  good  deal  of  a  prig,  Betty,  and  it's  got  to 
come  out  of  him  some  way  or  other  between 
now  and  his  Sophomore  year  in  college. 
Better  not  interfere  too  often,  my  dear.  Let 
'em  work  it  out;  it  won't  hurt  either  of  'em." 

His  wife  surveyed  him  with  wide,  sad  eyes. 
"  Oh,  Sam ! "  she  murmured,  "  how  can  you 
talk  like  that?  Carroll  tries  to  be  a  good  boy 
and  help  me  all  he  can.  But  Doris " 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  the  little  girl,"  ad- 
vised her  husband,  laying  a  soothing  hand  on 
hers.  "  She's  all  right." 

"  She  ought  not  to  quarrel  with  the  other 
children;  or  disobey  me.  You  know  that, 
Sam." 

"  Of  course  not.  You'll,  have  to  make  her 
toe  the  mark,  Betty." 

"  But  how,  Sam  ?  I've  tried.  I'm  positively 
worn  out  trying." 

The  man  pursed  up  his  lips  in  an  inaudible 
whistle.  "  Upon  my  word,  Betty,"  he  broke 
out  at  length,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  can  tell  you. 
We  don't  stand  for  whipping,  you  know.  Beat- 
ing small  children  always  struck  me  as  being 
a  relic  of  the  dark  ages;  and  I  know  I  could 


Those  Brewster  Children          17 

never  stand  it  to  see  a  child  of  mine  cower 
before  me  out  of  physical  fear.  But  we  mustn't 
spoil  'em ! " 

"  Marian  Stanford  whips  Robbie  every  time 
he  disobeys,"  Elizabeth  said  after  a  lengthen- 
ing pause.  "  She  uses  a  butter-paddle — the 
kind  I  make  those  little  round  balls  with;  you 
know  it  has  a  corrugated  surface.  She  says 
it  is  just  the  thing;  it  hurts  so  nicely.  But 
I'm  sure  Robbie  Stanford  is  far  naughtier  than 
Carroll  ever  thinks  of  being." 

Her  husband  broke  into  a  helpless  laugh 
which  he  promptly  repressed  at  sight  of  her 
indignant  face. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  laugh,  Sam,"  she  told  him, 
in  a  tone  of  dignified  reproof.  "  You  may  not 
think  it  very  important — all  this  about  the 
children;  but  it  is.  It  is  the  most  important 
thing  in  the  world.  Even  Marian  Stanford 
says " 

"  Why  do  you  discuss  the  subject  with  her?  " 
interrupted  Sam.  "  You'll  never  agree ;  and 
whatever  we  do  with  our  own  children,  we 
mustn't  force  our  views  on  other  people." 

She  surveyed  him  with  a  mutinous  expres- 
sion about  her  pretty  lips.  "  Marian  doesn't 


18         Those  Brewster  Children 

hesitate  to  criticise  my  methods,"  she  said. 
"  The  last  time  I  saw  her  she  informed  me 
that  she  had  whipped  her  baby — only  think, 
Sam,  her  baby!  " 

"  Did  she  use  the  butter-paddle  on  the  unfor- 
tunate infant?"  he  wanted  to  know,  with  a 
quizzical  lift  of  his  eyebrows ;  "  or  was  it  a 
spanking  au  naturel?  " 

Elizabeth  repressed  his  levity  with  a  frown. 
"  I  wonder  at  you,  Sam,  for  thinking  there's 
anything  funny  about  it,"  she  said  rebukingly. 
"  I  didn't  feel  at  all  like  laughing  when  she 
said — with  such  a  superior  air — *  Livingstone's 
been  getting  altogether  too  much  for  me 
lately,  and  this  morning  I  took  the  paddle  to 
him  and  whipped  him  soundly.  He  was  the 
most  surprised  child  you  ever  saw ! '  Of  course 
I  didn't  say  anything.  What  could  I  have 
said?  But  I  must  have  looked  what  I  felt, 
for  she  burst  out  laughing.  '  Dear,  dear ! ' 
she  said,  *  how  indignant  you  do  look ;  but  I 
intend  to  have  my  children  mind  me.'  Then 
she  glanced  at  Richard  peacefully  pulling  the 
spools  out  of  my  basket  as  if  she  pitied  him 
for  having  such  a  fond,  weak  mother  as  to 
allow  it." 


Those  Brewster  Children         19 

Sam  Brewster  rumpled  his  hair  with  a  smoth- 
ered yawn.  "  Marian  is  certainly  a  strenuous 
lady,"  he  murmured.  "  But  let  me  advise  you, 
Betty,  not  to  discuss  family  discipline  with  her, 
Jf  you  wish  to  preserve  peaceful  relations  be- 
tween the  families.  The  illegitimate  use  of  the 
Stanford  butter-paddle  is  nothing  to  us,  you 
know. — Er — you  were  telling  me  about  the 
letter  you  had  from  the  fair  Evelyn,"  he  went 
on  pacifically,  "  and  did  my  ears  deceive  me? 
or  did  you  intimate  that  our  dear  friend  Miss 
Tripp  was  coming  to  spend  the  day  with  us 
soon?" 

"To  spend  the  day!"  echoed  Elizabeth. 
"  She's  coming  to  stay  two  weeks.  I  had  to 
ask  her,  Sam,"  she  added,  quickly  forestalling 
his  dismayed  protest ;  "  she  is  obliged  to  be 
in  town  interviewing  lawyers  and  people,  and 
I  did  want  to  do  something  to  help  her.  Sam, 
she  thinks  she  may  be  obliged  to  teach,  or  do 
something;  but  she  isn't  up  on  anything, 
and  I  don't  believe  she  could  possibly  get  any 
sort  of  a  position." 

"Betty,  you're  a  good  little  woman,"  he 
said,  beaming  humorously  upon  her ;  "  and  I 
never  felt  more  convinced  of  the  fact  than  I 


20          Those  Brewster  Children 

do  this  minute.  I'm  game,  though;  I'll  do 
everything  I  can  to  help  in  my  small,  weak 
way." 

Elizabeth  gazed  at  her  husband  with  wide, 
meditative  eyes.  "  I  do  wish,"  she  said  de- 
voutly, "  that  Evelyn  could  meet  some  nice, 
suitable  man.  She's  really  very  attractive — 
you  know  she  is,  Sam — and  it  would  solve  all 
her  problems  so  beautifully." 

"  How  would  Hickey  do  ?  "  he  inquired  lazily. 
"  George  is  forty,  if  not  fat  and  fair ;  and  he's 
a  thoroughly  good  fellow." 


Ill 

ELIZABETH  BREWSTER  had  been  awake  in  the 
night,  as  was  her  custom,  making  her  noise- 
less rounds  of  the  children's  beds  by  the  dim 
light  of  a  candle.  A  cold  wind  had  sprung 
up,  with  driving  snow  and  sleet,  and  she  feared 
its  incursion  into  her  nursery.  Daylight 
found  her  in  the  kitchen  superintending  the 
slow  movements  of  Celia,  who  upset  the  coffee- 
pot, dropped  a  soft-boiled  egg  on  the  hearth 
and  stumbled  over  her  untied  shoe-strings  in 
her  untutored  efforts  to  assist. 

Close  upon  the  hurried  departure  of  her  hus- 
band to  his  office  in  a  distant  part  of  the  city, 
came  the  sound  of  small  feet  and  voices  from 
above.  With  Sam's  kiss  still  warm  on  her  lips 
she  ran  lightly  upstairs.  Carroll,  partly 
dressed,  stood  before  the  mirror  brushing  his 
hair,  in  funny  imitation  of  his  father's  care- 
ful manner  of  accomplishing  that  necessary 
process;  while  Doris  scampered  wildly  about 
in  her  night-gown,  her  small  bare  feet  pink 
with  cold. 


22         iThose  Brewster  "Children 

"  I  wanted  to  see  my  daddy,"  she  pouted, 
as  her  mother  remonstrated.  "  I  wanted  to 
tell  him  somesing." 

"You  can  tell  him  to-night,  girlie. — Yes, 
baby;  in  just  a  minute!"  Elizabeth's  fingers 
were  flying  as  she  pulled  on  the  little  girl's 
warm  stockings  and  buttoned  her  shoes.  "  Now 
then,  kittykins,  slip  into  your  warm  dressing- 
gown  and  see  how  nicely  you  can  brush  your 
teeth,  while  mother — What  is  it,  Carroll?  Oh, 
a  button  off?  Well,  Til  sew  it  on.  Give 
Buddy  his  picture-book. — Yes,  pet;  mother 
knows  you're  hungry;  you  shall  have  break- 
fast in  just  a  minute.  See  the  pretty  pic- 
tures.— That's  right,  Carroll,  my  work-basket. 
Now  stand  still  while  I — Oh,  Doris  dear!  Did 
you  drop  the  glass  ?  " 

"It  was  all  slippy,  mother,  an'  I  couldn't 
hold  it.  It's  on  the  floor,  mother,  all  in  teeny, 
weeny  pieces ! " 

"Don't  step  on  them!  Wait,  I'll  sweep  up 
the  pieces. — Yes,  baby,  mother  hears  you !  See 
the  pretty  picture  of  the  little  pigs!  Those 
nice  little  pigs  aren't  crying! — Wait,  Carroll, 
till  mother  fastens  the  thread.  There,  that's 
done!  Now  put  the  basket — What  is  it,  Doris? 


Those  Brewster  Children         23 

Oh,  poor  little  girl;  you've  cut  your  finger. 
Don't  cry!  But  you  see  you  should  have 
minded  mother  and  not  touched  the  broken 
glass.  Now  we'll  tie  it  up  in  this  nice  soft 
cloth,  and 

"Yes,  Celia;  what  is  it?  Oh,  the  butcher? 
Well,  let  me  think — We  had  beefsteak  last 
night.  Tell  him  to  bring  chops — nice  ones; 
not  like  the  last. — Oh,  I  must  run  down  and 
speak  to  that  boy;  he's  so  careless  with  the 
orders!  Tell  him  to  wait  a  minute,  Celia. — 
Carroll,  won't  you  show  baby  his  pictures  and 
keep  him  quiet  till  I — No,  Doris;  you  mustn't 
touch  that  bottle;  that  is  father's  bay-rum. 
Put  it  down,  quick!" 

The  meddlesome  little  fingers  let  go  the  bot- 
tle with  a  jerk.  It  fell  to  the  floor,  its  fra- 
grant contents  pouring  over  the  carpet.  "Oh, 
you  naughty  child !  What  will  mother  do  with 
you?  'All  of  daddy's  nice — Yes,  Celia;  I  hear 
you.  I  am  coming  directly.  I  must  wipe  up 
this — He  says  he  can't  wait?  Well,  tell  him 
to  bring  two  pounds  of  nice  lamb  chops — rib 
chops.  If  they  are  like  the  last  ones  he 
brought  tell  him  I  shall  send  them  right  back. 

"  Now,  Doris,  I  want  you  to  look  at  mother. 


24         Those  Brewster  Children 

Why  did  you  climb  up  in  that  chair  and  pull 
the  cork  out  of  the  bottle,  when  I've  told  you 
never  to  meddle  with  the  things  on  the  chif- 
foniere?  " 

"  I  should  think  that  child  would  know  bet- 
ter after  a  while,"  put  in  Carroll,  with  the 
solemn  air  of  an  octogenarian  grandfather. 
"  You  ought  to  have  remembered  the  salad 
oil  last  week,  Doris,  and  the  ink  the  week  be- 
fore!" 

"  Don't  interrupt,  Carroll ;  I'm  talking  to 
Dtaris  just  now.  Look  at  mother;  don't  hang 
your  head." 

"  I  wanted  to — smell  of  it,"  muttered  the 
child,  digging  her  round  chin  into  her  neck, 
while  she  eyed  her  mother  from  under  puck- 
ered brows.  "  Daddy  said  I  might ;  lots  of 
times  he  lets  me  smell  it." 

"  Yes,  when  he  holds  the  bottle ;  but  now,  you 
see,  poor  daddy  won't  have  any  nice  bay-rum 
the  next  time  he  wants  to  shave.  He'll  say 
'  who  spilled  my  bay-rum  ?  ' 

"  It  smells  good !  "  observed  Doris,  filling  the 
judicial  pause  with  a  rapturous  giggle. 

"  But  it  will  all  evaporate  before  night,"  said 
Elizabeth,  taking  up  her  youngest,  who  had 


Those  Brewster  Children          25 

thrown  The  Adventures  of  Seven  Little  Pigs 
on  the  floor  and  was  protesting  loudly  at  the 
delay. 

"  How  do  you  spell  evaporate,  mother? " 
asked  Carroll.  "  That's  a  funny  word — e-vap- 
o-rate.  What  does  it  mean,  mother?  " 

"  It  means  to  go  away  into  the  air — to  dis- 
appear," Elizabeth  told  him.  "  See  the  big 
spot  on  the  floor,  and  smell  how  fragrant  the 
air  is.  Now  we'll  go  down  to  breakfast  and 
I  will  open  the  windows;  when  I  come  back 
after  a  while  the  bay-rum  will  be  gone;  it  will 
be  evaporated.  Do  you  understand?  Doris 
can't  pick  it  up  and  put  it  back  into  the  bottle, 
no  matter  how  sorry  she  may  feel  to  think  she 
has  been  so  careless." 

Two  widely  opened  pairs  of  serious  eyes  trav- 
elled from  the  lessening  spot  on  the  floor  to  her 
face. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  spill  a  bottle  of 
'fumery  every  day  an'  smell  it  'vaporate," 
gurgled  Doris,  showing  her  dimples. 

Elizabeth  lifted  the  mischievous  face  toward 
hers  with  an  admonitory  finger-tip.  "  I'll  tell 
you,  Doris,  what  you  must  do  to  make  it  right 
with  father,"  she  said  slowly  and  impressively. 


26         Those  Brewster  Children 

"  You  must  take  all  the  money  out  of  your 
bank  and  buy  a  new  bottle  of  bay-rum." 

She  felt  that  for  once,  at  least,  she  had  made 
the  punishment  fit  the  crime  to  a  nicety. 

"Not  all  my  money,  mother?" 

"  It  will  take  every  cent  of  it,  I  am  afraid." 

The  small  culprit  clapped  her  hands  and  exe- 
cuted an  impromptu  pirouette.  "  Oh,  goody, 
goody,  Carroll!  mother  says  I  may  spend  all 
my  money;  won't  that  be  fun?  When,  mother, 
when  can  I  buy  the  bottle  for  daddy? 
To-day?  Say  yes,  mother;  please  say 
yes!" 

Elizabeth  buried  her  face  in  her  baby's  fat 
neck  to  conceal  the  rebellious  smile  that  would 
curve  her  young  lips,  just  when  she  knew  she 
ought  to  be  grave  and  severe. 

"  If  you  are  a  good  girl  in  kindergarten  I 
will  take  you  to  the  store  this  afternoon,"  she 
said  finally,  with  an  undercurrent  of  wonder 
at  the  punishment  which  had  so  suddenly  been 
metamorphosed  into  a  reward.  These  singular 
transformations  were  apt  to  occur  when  her 
small  daughter  was  concerned.  She  reflected 
upon  the  recurrence  of  the  phenomenon  as  she 
brushed  the  silken  mass  of  Doris'  blond  hair 


Those  Brewster  Children         BE 

and  fastened  up  her  frock  in  the  back,  both 
operations  being  impeded  by  the  wrigglings  of 
the  stalwart  infant  in  her  lap. 

"I  like  to  smell  'fumery,"  announced  the 
young  person,  at  the  conclusion  of  her  toilet, 
"  an*  I  love — I  jus*  love  to  hear  pennies  jingle 
in  my  pocket.  Can  I  empty  the  money  out  of 
my  bank  now,  mother?  Can  I?"  She  swung 
backward  and  forward  on  her  toes  like  a  bird 
poised  for  flight. 

"  You  must  eat  your  breakfast  and  go  to 
school,"  Elizabeth  said,  trying  hard  to  keep 
her  rising  impatience  out  of  her  voice.  "  And 
after  school " 

"After  school  can  I  take  my  bank?  The  very 
minute  it's  out?  Can  I,  mother;  can  I?" 

"You  should  say  may  I;  not  can  I,  Doris. 
Yes ;  if  you're  a  good  girl  in  kindergarten,  and 
keep  hold  of  Carroll's  hand  all  the  way  going 
and  coming,  why  then " 

"  I  don't  like  to  take  hold  of  hands  with  Car- 
roll," objected  Doris,  drawing  her  lips  into  a 
scarlet  bud.  "  I  like  to  walk  by  my  lone ;  but 
I  promise  I  won't  get  run  over  or  anything. 
I'll  be  just  as  good!" 

It  wasn't  far  to  the  little  school  where  both 


28          Those  Brewster  Children 

children  spent  the  morning.  Elizabeth  watched 
her  darlings  quite  to  the  corner,  pleased  to 
observe  that  they  were  clinging  obediently  to 
each  other's  hands  and  apparently  engaged 
in  amicable  conversation. 

Then  her  thoughts  turned  with  some  anxiety 
upon  the  approaching  visit  of  Miss  Tripp. 
She  was  very  fond  of  Evelyn  Tripp,  she  as- 
sured herself,  and  if  it  were  not  for  Celia, 
and  the  spare-room  (which  needed  new  cur- 
tains, new  paper  and  a  larger  rug  to  cover  the 
worn  place  in  the  carpet),  and  if — she  wrinkled 
her  pretty  forehead  unbecomingly — the  chil- 
dren could  only  be  depended  upon.  One  could 
not  safely  predict  the  conduct  of  Doris  from 
hour  to  hour ;  and  while,  of  course,  Carroll  was 
the  best  child  in  the  world;  still,  even  Carroll 
— upon  occasions — could  be  very  trying  to  the 
nerves.  As  for  Richard,  he  was  the  baby; 
and  no  one,  not  even  Evelyn  Tripp,  could  fail 
to  understand  the  subordinate  position  of  the 
average  household  in  its  relations  to  the  baby 
of  the  house.  She  kissed  and  hugged  the  small 
tyrant  rapturously,  while  she  set  forth  a  pleni- 
tude of  building-blocks,  picture-books,  trains, 
engines  and  wagons  of  miniature  sizes  and  bril- 


Those  Brewster  Children          29 

liant  colours  calculated  to  enchain  the  infant 
attention. 

"  Now,  darling,"  she  cooed,  "  here  are  all 
your  pretty  playthings ;  sit  right  down  and 
play,  and  be  a  good  little  man,  while  mother 
runs  out  in  the  kitchen  a  minute  to  see  what 
Celia  is  doing." 

Richard  surveyed  his  spread-out  possessions 
with  a  distinctly  bored  expression  on  his  round 
cherubic  countenance.  He  had  seen  and 
handled  those  trains,  wagons,  engines  and 
blocks  many,  many  times  before,  and  they  did 
not  appeal  to  his  infant  imagination  with  the 
same  alluring  force  as  did  some  other  objects 
in  the  room.  Had  his  mother  seen  fit  to  install 
the  scarlet  locomotive,  for  example,  on  the 
lofty  mantle-piece  with  a  stern  interdiction 
upon  it,  it  would  doubtless  have  appeared  su- 
premely attractive.  But  the  infant  mind  does 
not  differ  in  essentials  from  that  of  the  adult. 
The  difficult,  the  forbidden,  the  almost  un- 
attainable fires  the  ambition  and  stiffens  the 
will.  There  was  a  glass  tank  in  the  bay-win- 
dow, situated  on  what  appeared  to  Richard 
as  a  lofty  and  well-nigh  inaccessible  table.  It 
contained  a  large  quantity  of  water  of  a 


80         Those  Brewster  Children 

greenish  hue,  as  well  as  a  number  of  swift- 
moving,  glittering,  golden  things  which  flashed 
in  and  out  between  the  green,  waving  plants 
rooted  in  the  sand  at  the  bottom. 

Now  Richard  had  been  sternly  forbidden  to 
touch  this  enticing  combination  of  objects. 
Nevertheless  he  had  done  it ;  not  only  once,  but 
twice — thrice.  He  recalled  with  rapture  the 
cool,  slippery  feel  of  the  stones;  the  entranc- 
ing drip  and  gurgle  of  the  water;  the  elusive, 
flitting  shapes  of  the  yellow  things,  "  sishes," 
he  called  them  fondly,  which  an  adroit  hand 
could  occasionally  manage  to  seize  and  hold 
for  a  brief  instant. 

A  stray  sunbeam  darted  into  the  aquarium 
and  lit  up  its  mysterious  depths  with  irresisti- 
ble gorgeousness.  Richard  gazed  and  gazed; 
then  he  turned  and>  kicked  the  red  locomotive ; 
under  the  impact  of  his  pudgy  foot  it  dashed 
with  futile  energy  into  the  ruck  of  wagons, 
cars  and  building-blocks  and  lay  there  on  its 
side,  its  feeble  little  wheels  turning  slowly. 

"Nas'y  ol*  twain!"  muttered  the  infant  dis- 
gustedly. 


IV 


MEANWHILE  Elizabeth  in  her  kitchen  was  busy 
unearthing  divers  culinary  crimes  in  the  vari- 
ous cupboards  and  closets  where  the  stolid 
Celia  displayed  a  positive  ingenuity  in  conceal- 
ing the  evidences  of  her  misdoings.  It  was 
not  perhaps  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  untu- 
tored Norwegian  should  elect  to  boil  her  dish- 
cloth with  the  embroidered  doilies  from  the 
dining-room;  or  that  the  soap  should  be  dis- 
covered in  a  state  of  gelatinous  collapse  in  the 
bottom  of  the  scrubbing  pail  and  the  new 
cereal  cooker  burning  gaily  on  the  range. 
But  Elizabeth's  strained  patience  finally 
snapped  in  twain  at  sight  of  a  pile  of  parti- 
coloured bits  of  china  in  the  bottom  of  the 
coal-hod. 

"  My  best  salad  bowl ! "  she  exclaimed,  stoop- 
ing to  examine  the  grimy  fragments.  "  When 
did  you  break  it,  Celia?  " 

The  girl  was  standing  at  the  sink,  presenting 
her  broad  back  like  a  solidly  built  wall  against 

31 


82         Those  Brewster  Children 

the  rising  tide  of  her  mistress'  indignation. 
Her  big  blond  head  sank  forward  over  her 
dish-pan;  a  guttural  murmur  issued  from  her 
lips. 

"  And  I  have  always  been  so  careful  of  it ! 
It  was  one  of  my  wedding  presents ! "  contin- 
ued Elizabeth,  in  a  fine  crescendo.  "  How  did 
you  do  it?  " 

The  girl  had  turned  on  both  faucets,  and  the 
descending  torrent  of  rushing  water  drowned 
the  anguished  inquiry. 

"  You  know  I  told  you  never  to  touch  that 
bowl.  I  preferred  to  wash  it  myself.  You 
must  have  taken  it  out  of  the  dining-room. 
Why  did  you  do  it?" 

"  I  no  take  heem  out — naw !  I  smash  heem 
when  I  move  the  side-brood."  The  girl's  broad 
magenta-tinted  face  was  turned  suddenly  upon 
her  mistress.  She  appeared  excessively  pleased 
with  her  mastery  of  the  difficult  English 
tongue.  "  I  scrub  ze  floor ;  I  s-m-a-s-h  heem," 
she  repeated  positively. 

Elizabeth  drew  a  deep  breath.  Scrubbing 
was  Celia's  one  distinguished  accomplishment. 
The  spotless  floors  and  table  and  the  shining 
faucets  and  utensils  bore  evidence  to  the  ear- 


Those  Brewster  Children          33 

nestness   of  her   purpose  and  the   undeniable 
strength  of  her  arms. 

"  You  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  I  am  sure,"  she 
said  at  last,  with  a  renunciatory  sigh ;  "  but 
remember  in  future  you  must  not  move  the 
dishes  on  the  side-board  unless  I  am  there  to 
help  you." 

"  I  no  move  heem ;  I  s-m-a-s-h  heem." 
"  Yes,  I  understand ;  but  don't  do  it  again." 
"  I   no  s-m-a-s-h  heem   'gain — Naw !  "      The 
girl's    china  blue   eyes   gazed   guilelessly   into 
the  depths   of  the   coal-hod;   she  lifted  them 
with   a  triumphant   smile   upon    her   mistress. 
"  I  have — s-m-ash ! " 

The  trill  of  the  door-bell  put  an  end  to  this 
improving  conversation;  Elizabeth  answered 
it  herself  by  way  of  the  sitting-room,  where 
she  paused  to  remove  Richard,  damp  and  drip- 
ping, from  an  ecstatic  exploration  of  the  gold- 
fish tank.  The  sound  of  his  passionate  pro- 
test followed  her  to  the  front  door  and  lent  a 
crisp  decision  to  her  tones  as  she  informed  a 
gentleman  of  an  Hebraic  cast  of  countenance 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  exchange  old  shoes  of 
any  description  for  "  an  elegant  sauce-pan, 
lady;  cost  you  one  dollar  in  the  store.  Only 


34         Those  Brewster  Children 

one  pair  shoes,  lady,  this  grand  piece;  cost 
you  one  dol " 

Elizabeth  shut  the  door  firmly  upon  the  glit- 
tering temptation  and  returned  to  her  young- 
est born,  who  was  weeping  large  tears  of 
wrath  in  the  middle  of  the  sitting-room 
floor. 

"  Come  up  stairs  with  mother,  Richard ;  your 
sleeves  are  all  wet,"  exhorted  his  mother, 
struggling  with  a  sudden  temptation.  It 
would  have  been  a  relief  to  her  feelings  to 
spank  him  soundly,  and  she  acknowledged  as 
much  to  herself. 

"  Come,  dear,"  she  repeated,  in  a  carefully 
controlled  voice.  But  Richard's  fat  legs 
doubled  limply  under  him ;  he  appeared  unable 
to  take  a  single  step;  whereupon  his  slender 
mother  masterfully  picked  him  up,  despite  the 
mysterious  increase  in  his  weight  which  she 
had  had  frequent  occasion  to  notice  in  the  per- 
son of  an  angry  child. 

It  was  useless  at  the  present  moment  to  re- 
mind her  son  of  oft-repeated  prohibitions  con- 
cerning the  gold-fish  tank.  Elizabeth  pon- 
dered the  question  of  an  appropriate  penalty 
with  knit  brows,  while  she  washed  and  dressed 


Those  Brewster  Children         35 

him  in  dry  garments  to  the  accompaniment  of 
his  doleful  sobs. 

**  NW,  Richard,  you  must  stay  in  your  crib 
till  you  can  be  a  good  boy  and  mind  mother," 
was  the  somewhat  vague  sentence  of  the  mater- 
nal court  at  the  conclusion  of  the  necessary 
rehabilitation,  whereupon  the  infant  howled 
anew  as  if  under  acute  bodily  torture. 

As  she  turned  to  pick  up  the  wet  clothing  a 
cheerful  voice  called  her  to  the  top  of  the 
stairs.  "  Shall  I  come  up,  dear?  Your  kitchen 
divinity  admitted  me  and  told  me  to  walk  right 
in." 

"  Oh, — Marian ;  I'll  be  right  down.  I've  had 
to  dress  Dick  over  again,  and  everything's  in 
confusion.  Go  in  the  sitting-room,  please." 

Elizabeth  wanted  time  to  collect  herself  be- 
fore meeting  the  cool,  amused  eyes  of  Marian 
Stanford,  whose  ideas  on  the  government  of 
children  were  so  wholly  at  variance  with  her 
own. 

"  When  you  are  ready  to  be  a  good  boy, 
Richard,  you  may  call  mother  and  I  will  come 
up  and  take  you  out  of  your  crib,"  was  her 
parting  observation  to  the  culprit. 

"Oh,  Elizabeth,   dear;   I'm   afraid   I  inter- 


36          Those  Brewster  Children 

rupted  a  little  maternal  seance,"  was  Mrs. 
Stanford's  greeting.  "  No  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  if 
I  haven't.  It  does  vex  me  so  when  someone 
chances  to  call  just  as  I  am  having  it  out  with 
one  of  the  infants." 

"  Richard  got  his  sleeves  wet,"  explained 
Richard's  mother,  with  what  the  other  men- 
tally termed  "  a  really  funny  air  of  dignity." 

Mrs.  Stanford's  uplifted  eyebrows  and  a  flit- 
ting glance  in  the  direction  of  the  gold-fish 
tank  expressed  her  complete  understanding  of 
the  matter. 

"  I  remember  you  told  me  your  child  was  fond 
of  fishing,"  she  murmured.  "  So  like  his  dear 
father." 

Elizabeth's  tense  mouth  relaxed  into  a  smile. 
The  howls  upstairs  had  ceased;  but  she  was 
conscious  of  waiting  for  something,  she  hardly 
knew  what,  to  follow. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  you  do  in  a  case  like  this  ?  " 
pursued  Mrs.  Stanford  guilefully.  "  You  know 
I'm  perfectly  willing  to  abandon  my  crude  at- 
tempts at  training  the  infant  mind  the  instant 
you,  or  anybody,  can  show  me  something  more 
efficient  than  my  beloved  butter-paddle.  I 
tell  Jim  the  B.  P.  is  my  best  friend  these  days. 


Those  Brewster  Children          37 

It  is  absolutely  the  only  thing  that  intimidates 
Robert  in  the  slightest  degree." 

Elizabeth  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Intimi- 
dates? "  she  repeated. 

Mrs.  Stanford  laughed.  "  Yes ;  intimidates. 
My  dear,  that  child  is  a  terror!  I'm  at  my 
wit's  end  with  him  half  the  time;  and  as  for 
Livingstone,  he's  going  to  be  worse;  I  can  see 
that  already." 

Elizabeth  hesitated  while  the  warm  colour 
dyed  her  cheeks.  "  You  know  what  I  think 
about  terrifying  children  into  obedience,  Mar- 
ian; and  I  know  what  you  think.  We  really 
oughtn't  to  discuss  it." 

The  fine  scorn  in  her  eyes  suddenly  gave  place 
to  a  look  of  alarm  at  sound  of  an  appalling 
thump  on  the  floor  above.  She  darted  from 
the  room  and  up  the  stairs  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  roars  of  anguish. 

Marian  Stanford  moved  her  handsome  shoul- 
ders gently.  "  She  must  have  put  Richard  in 
his  crib  and  told  him  to  stay  there,"  was  her 
entirely  correct  supposition.  "  Of  course  he 
didn't  stay  put." 

Marian  Stanford  was  a  graduate  of  Welles- 
ley,  and  her  mind  filled  with  fragments  of  im- 


38         [Those  Brewster  Children 

perfectly  acquired  science  not  infrequently 
chanced  upon  a  suggestive  sequence.  She 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  share  her 
present  gleam  of  enlightenment  with  dear 
Elizabeth  (who  had  never  been  to  college) 
when  she  presently  returned,  bearing  Richard 
in  her  arms.  The  child  was  still  drawing 
convulsive,  half-sobbing  breaths,  and  a  hand- 
kerchief wet  with  witch  hazel  was  laid  across 
his  forehead. 

'*  He  fell  out  of  his  crib,  poor  darling ! "  ex- 
plained Elizabeth. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  told  him  not  to  get 
out?" 

Elizabeth  eyed  her  friend  speculatively  over 
the  top  of  her  baby's  curly  head.  It  was  use- 
less to  be  offended  with  Marian;  she  never 
seemed  to  be  aware  of  it. 

"  You  were  about  to  say  something  enlight- 
ening," she  observed  with  delicate  sarcasm. 
"  You  may  as  well  out  with  it." 

Mrs.  Stanford  smiled  appreciatively.  "You 
always  were  a  clever  creature,  Elizabeth,"  she 
drawled;  "but  had  it  occurred  to  you  that 
I  would  never  have  thought  of  thumping  my 
child  as  the  law  of  gravitation  thumped  yours 


Those  Brewster  Children         39 

just  now?  You  wouldn't  punish  a  certain 
young  person  for  disobeying  because  you  are 
so  anxious  to  spare  him  pain ;  but  I  should  say 
he'd  been  punished  pretty  severely — corporal 
punishment  at  that !  " 

"  The  poor  darling  fell  out  of  his  crib,  Mar- 
ian, and  hurt  himself.  Any  child  might  do 
that." 

Marian  Stanford  got  to  her  feet  lazily.  She 
was  one  of  those  women  who  manage  to  ac- 
complish a  great  deal  of  work  with  the  least 
possible  apparent  effort.  All  her  movements 
were  deliberate,  even  indolent.  Elizabeth  en- 
vied her  sometimes  in  the  midst  of  her  own 
somewhat  breathless  exertions. 

"  I  came  over  to  get  your  pattern  for  Car- 
roll's blouse,"  she  said ;  "  not  to  discuss  the 
government  of  children.  But  we  seem  to  be 
at  it,  as  usual.  What  I  meant  to  convey  was 
commonplace  enough;  if  you  had  seen  fit  to 
settle  the  matter  of  the  fish  tank  with  a  sound 
spanking,  administered  on  the  spot,  Richard 
might  not — mind  I  do  not  say  would  not — 
but  he  might  not  have  acquired  this  particular 
thump  at  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Be-done-by-as- 
you-did.  It  just  occurred  to  me,  dear,  and 


40         Those  Brewster  Children 

you  know  I  never  could  keep  my  thoughts  to 
myself  as  I  should." 

Elizabeth  arose,  deposited  her  child  on  the 
couch  and  produced  a  roll  of  patterns  from  a 
drawer  in  her  desk.  "  Here  is  the  blouse,  Mar- 
ian," she  said ;  "  you'll  need  to  cut  it  larger 
for  Robbie;  he  is  so  broad  in  the  shoulders. 
Be  careful  about  the  collar,  though,  or  you'll 
get  it  too  big  around  the  neck." 

Marian  Stanford  was  weak  when  it  came  to 
sewing.  Elizabeth  felt  herself  again  as  she 
saw  the  puzzled  look  in  her  friend's  face. 
"  This  is  the  neck-band,"  she  explained,  "  and 
this  is  the  collar.  You  must  be  careful  not  to 
stretch  the  cloth  after  you  have  cut  it.  But 
you  know  perfectly  well,  Marian,  that  we  never 
shall  think  alike  about  the  way  to  bring  up 
children.  I  simply  will  not  whip  my  children 
— no  matter  what  they  do !  They  are  not  ani- 
mals to  be  tortured  into  submission." 

Mrs.  Stanford  laughed  good-humouredly. 
"  I'm  afraid  mine  are,"  she  said.  "  But  never 
mmd,  Betty;  we  won't  quarrel  over  it;  you're 
too  sweetly  useful,  and  frankly  I  can't  afford 
to.  If  I  get  into  a  mess  over  this  blouse  I  shall 
come  over  to  be  extricated." 


Those  Brewster  Children          41 

Ten  minutes  later  Elizabeth  was  surprised 
to  hear  her  husband's  rapid  foot  in  the  hall. 
She  ran  to  meet  him  with  an  anxious  face. 

"  Nothing's  the  matter,  dear,"  he  said  at 
once ;  "  that  is  to  say,  nothing  alarming.  I 
was  over  this  way  to  see  Biddle  &  Crofut  and 
ran  in  to  tell  you  that  Miss  Tripp  telephoned 
to  the  office  this  morning  to  inform  me  that 
she'd  been  called  into  town  a  day  earlier  than 
she  expected  to  come,  and  would  I — could  I 
get  word  to  her  dearest  Elizabeth  that  she 
would  be  with  her  this  afternoon." 

Elizabeth  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Well,"  she 
said  resignedly ;  "  Celia  is  sweeping  the  spare 
room,  and  I'm  making  some  new  curtains  out 
of  my  old  muslin  dress;  you'll  be  surprised  to 
see  how  well  they'll  look,  Sam.  But  I've  only 
a  rice  pudding  for  dessert,  and " 

"  I  might  order  some  ice-cream,"  he  sug- 
gested, "  and  some — er " 

A  sudden  suspicion  assailed  his  Elizabeth; 
she  gazed  searchingly  at  her  husband.  "  You 
haven't  told  me  all,"  she  said.  "  Don't  over- 
whelm me  by  saying  that  Mrs.  Tripp  is  com- 
ing too." 

He    met    her    inquiring    eyes    rather    shame- 


42          Those  Brewster  Children 

facedly.  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  Betty, 
Hickey  chanced  to  be  in  the  office  at  the  time 
the  Tripp  lady  telephoned,  and  I — er — re- 
called what  you  said  last  night;  so  I " 

"  You  didn't  ask  Mr.  Hickey  to  dinner  to- 
night, Sam?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Aside  from  any  sentimental 
considerations  George  is  good  company;  and 
he's  very  appreciative  of  a  certain  little  home- 
maker  I  know,  and  of  the  dinners  he's  eaten 
here  in  the  past." 

"  But  it  seems  so — sudden !  " 

He  roared  with  laughter.  "  '  In  your  mind's 
eye,  Horatio,'  "  he  quoted,  when  he  had  re- 
covered himself  somewhat.  "You  must  re- 
member, my  dear,  that  neither  the  Tripp  lady 
nor  Hickey  are  aware  of  your  Machiavellian 
designs  upon  their  future." 

"  Mr.  Hickey  wasn't  a  part  of  my  designs, 
as  you  call  them,"  she  reminded  him  with 
spirit.  "  I  merely  said  that  I  wished  poor 
Evelyn  could  find  some  nice  suitable  man* 
and  you  said " 

"  We  certainly  owe  the  lady  a  *  suitable '  ar- 
ticle of  some  sort  or  other,"  he  observed,  with 
a  reminiscent  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes,  "  if  it's 


Those  Brewster  Childreii          43 

nothing  more  than  a  husband,  and  I'd  like  you 
to  understand,  Betty,  that  Hickey  is  my  can- 
didate." 

She  glanced  at  her  watch  with  a  little  shriek 
of  dismay.  "  We  mustn't  waste  another  min- 
ute talking,"  she  said.  "  Evelyn  will  be  here 
before  I'm  half  ready  for  her." 


AN  unlocked  for  guest,  involving  new  curtains 
for  the  guest-room,  did  not  prevent  Elizabeth 
from  the  conscientious  discharge  of  her  ma- 
ternal duties.  She  resolved  for  once  to  play 
the  stern  part  of  Mrs.  Be-done-by-as-you-did. 

Richard  was  playing  with  his  blocks  with  per- 
fect equanimity,  a  large  black  and  blue  lump 
on  his  forehead  marking  his  recent  experience 
with  the  undeviating  law  of  gravitation.  He 
gave  utterance  to  a  little  yelp  of  protest  as 
his  mother  took  him  up  in  her  lap  with  a  firm 
hand. 

"  You  know,  Richard,"  she  said  solemnly, 
"  that  mother  has  told  you  ever  so  many  times 
that  you  must  not  put  your  hand  into  the 
aquarium  where  the  pretty  gold-fish  live.  Why 
didn't  you  mind  mother?  " 

There  being  a  new  link  established  in  the 
chain  of  associations  connected  with  the  gold- 
fish, the  infant  put  his  fat  hand  to  the  lump 
on  his  forehead  and  gazed  unwinkingly  at  his 
parent. 

44 


Those  Brewster  Children         45 

"  I  like  to  sp'ash  water,"  he  announced  con- 
clusively. "  I  like  bafs." 

Elizabeth  reflected  that  in  a  rudimentary 
way  her  child  was  endeavouring  to  make  clear 
his  motives,  and  even  to  place  them  on  a  praise- 
worthy basis.  A  feeling  of  pride  in  the  dis- 
tinguished intelligence  of  her  children  swelled 
within  her;  she  suppressed  it  as  she  went  on 
with  an  impressive  show  of  maternal  author- 
ity. 

"  Yes,  Richard ;  mother  knows  you  like  to 
take  your  bath;  but  we  don't  take  baths  with 
the  gold-fish.  Besides,  you  got  your  nice 
clean  dress  all  wet,  and  made  poor  .mother  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  Then,  when  mother 
told  you  to  stay  in  your  crib,  you  disobeyed 
again  and  got  a  dreadful  bump." 

The  infant  appeared  to  ponder  these,  indubi- 
table statements  for  a  space.  Then  he  broke 
into  an  ingratiating  smile.  "  I  was  tomin*  to 
tell  mudzer  I  was  a  dood  boy,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. "  Zen  I  bumped  my  head." 

The  violet  depths  of  his  eyes  under  their  up- 
turned lashes  were  altogether  adorable;  so 
was  his  pink  mouth,  half  parted  and  curved 
exquisitely  like  the  petals  of  a  flower.  Eliza- 


46         Those  Brewster  Children 

beth's  arms  closed  round  her  treasure;  her  lips 
brushed  the  warm  rose  of  his  cheeks. 

"  Darling ! "  she  murmured,  for  the  moment 
quite  losing  sight  of  the  fact  that  she  was  en- 
gaged in  the  difficult  task  of  moral  suasion. 
Elizabeth  was  almost  guiltily  open  to  the  ap- 
peal of  infantile  beauty  as  opposed  to  the  stern 
demands  of  discipline.  The  sight  of  a  dimple, 
appearing  and  disappearing  in  a  soft  cheek, 
the  quiver  of  baby  lips ;  the  irresistible  twinkle 
of  dawning  humour  in  baby  eyes  were  enough 
to  distract  her  mind  from  any  number  of  in- 
fantile peccadillos,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
the  exceedingly  intelligent  Brewster  children 
had  become  aware  of  it. 

"  I  am  a  dood  boy,"  repeated  Richard,  with 
a  bewitching  glance  at  his  parent.  Then  his 
chin  quivered  pathetically  and  he  raised  his 
hand  to  his  head  and  peered  out  from  under 
his  pink  palm.  "  I  bumped  my  head  on  ze 
floor." 

Elizabeth  hardened  her  heart  against  these 
multiplied  fascinations.  "  You  disobeyed 
mother  twice,"  she  said  sternly.  "  I  shall  have 
to  do  something  to  make  you  remember  not  to 
touch  the  gold-fish  again." 


Those  Brewster  Children         47 

She  looked  about  her  somewhat  uncertainly 
as  if  in  search  of  a  suitable  yet  entirely  safe 
idea.  "  I  think,"  she  said  solemnly,  "  that  I 
shall  tie  you  to  the  arm  of  this  big  chair  for 
— ten  minutes!  " 

The  corners  of  Richard's  pink  mouth  sud- 
denly drooped  as  this  terrible  sentence  of  the 
maternal  court  was  pronounced. 

"  I  am  a  dood  boy,  mudzer,"  he  quavered.  "  I 
bumped  my  head  on  ze  floor  an'  I  cwied!" 

Two  dimpled  arms  were  thrown  about  Eliza- 
beth's neck  and  a  curly  head  burrowed  pas- 
sionately into  her  bosom.  "  I  love  'oo,  mudzer ; 
I  am  a  dood  boy!" 

"  I  know  you  mean  to  be  good,  darling ! " 
exclaimed  Elizabeth,  her  heart  melting  within 
her;  "but  you  do  forget  so  often.  Mother 
wants  to  help  you  to  remember." 

But  the  intelligent  infant  had  given  himself 
up  to  an  unpremeditated  luxury  of  grief,  and 
Elizabeth  found  herself  in  the  unexpected  po- 
sition of  a  suppliant  consoler.  She  begged 
her  child  to  stop  crying;  she  kissed  the  black 
and  blue  spot  on  his  forehead  and  soothed  him 
with  soft  murmurs  and  gentle  caresses,  and 
when  finally  he  had  sobbed  himself  to  sleep  in 


48          Those  Brewster  Children 

her  arms,  she  bestowed  the  moist  rosy  little 
bundle  on  the  couch,  covering  him  warmly; 
then,  with  a  parting  pat  and  cuddle,  sat  down 
to  her  belated  work  on  the  spare-room  curtains, 
feeling  that  she  had  been  very  severe  indeed 
with  her  youngest  child. 

Richard  was  still  rosily  asleep  and  Elizabeth 
was  hurriedly  attaching  the  ruffles  to  one  of 
the  improvised  curtains  when  Celia,  with  two 
buttons  off  her  frock  in  the  back  and  a  broad 
streak  of  stove-blacking  across  her  honest  red 
face,  announced  "  one  nize  lady." 

Elizabeth  sprang  to  her  feet  in  sudden  con- 
sternation at  sight  of  the  small  square  of  white 
pasteboard  with  which  Celia  prefaced  her  an- 
nouncement. 

Mrs.  J.  Mortimer  Van  Duser  was  a  distant 
relative  of  Samuel  Brewster's,  and  it  pleased 
her  to  be  kind,  in  an  imposing  and  majestic 
manner — entirely  suited  to  her  own  imposing 
and  majestic  person — to  his  "  little  family," 
as  she  invariably  termed  it.  Elizabeth  had 
assured  her  husband  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion that  she  did  not  feel  the  least  embarrass- 
ment in  that  august  presence;  but  her  heart 
still  flew  to  her  mouth  at  sight  of  the  entirely 


Those  Brewster  Children         49 

correct  equipage  from  Beacon  Street,  and  she 
always  found  herself  drawing  a  long  breath 
of  unconfessed  relief  when  it  rolled  away  after 
one  of  Mrs.  Van  Duser's  infrequent  visits. 

When  presently  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  large,  bland 
and  encased  in  broadcloth  and  sables,  entered, 
she  bestowed  a  gracious  kiss  upon  Elizabeth's 
cheek,  and  seated  herself  in  a  straight-backed 
chair  with  the  effect  of  a  magistrate  about  to 
administer  justice. 

1  "  I  trust  you  received  the  little  brochure  I 
mailed  you  last  week,"  was  her  initial  remark, 
accompanied  by  a  searching  glance  at  Eliza- 
beth's agitated  face.  "  I  refer  to  *  Anthropo- 
logical investigations  on  one  thousand  chil- 
dren, white  and  coloured.'  I  looked  it  over  most 
carefully  and  marked  the  passages  I  deemed 
particularly  helpful  and  suggestive." 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Van  Duser,"  faltered 
Elizabeth,  "  I  did  get  the  book,  and  I — was 
intending  to  write  to  you  to-day  to  thank  you 
for  it." 

"Have  you  read  it?"  inquired  Mrs.  Van 
Duser  pointedly. 

*  I — looked  it  over,  and — it  appeared 
very " 


50         Those  Brewster  Children 

Mrs.  Van  Duser's  steadfast  gaze  appeared  to 
demand  the  truth,  the  whole  truth  and  nothing 
but  the  truth.  Elizabeth's  eyes  fell  before  it. 
"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to — to  think  of  me," 
she  said. 

"  I  think  of  you  not  infrequently,"  was  the 
lady's  gracious  rejoinder,  "  and  more  particu- 
larly of  your  children,  who  are,  of  course,  dis- 
tantly related  to  myself.  I  cannot  urge  too 
strongly,  or  too  often,  the  need  of  a  scientific 
study  of  infancy  and  childhood  as  causally  re- 
lated to  the  proper  functional  development  of 
your  offspring." 

"I  am  sure  it  is  most  kind  of  you,"  mur- 
mured Elizabeth,  striving  to  kindle  an  ap- 
preciative glow.  "  But — I  have  so  little 
time." 

"  You  have  all  the  time  there  is,  my  dear 
Elizabeth,"  chanted  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  in  her 
justly  celebrated  platform  tone;  "and  you 
should  strive  above  all  things  to  distinguish 
what  is  significant  and  essential  from  what  is 
trivial  and  accidental."  Her  voice  sank  to  a 
heart-searching  contralto,  as  she  added,  "  I 
have  observed  that  you  have  time  to  sew  trim- 
ming on  your  child's  frock.  What  is  trim- 


Those  Brewster  Children         51 

ming  as  compared  with  the  demands  of  the 
springing  intellect  ?  " 

Elizabeth  blushed  guiltily  and  murmured 
something  unintelligible. 

"  Did  you  study  the  passages  marked  in 
'  Nascent  Stages  and  their  Significance,'  which 
I  sent  you  the  week  before?— particularly 
those  on  *  The  feelings  and  their  expression  '  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  after  a  weighty  pause. 

Elizabeth  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  I — found  it 
not  altogether  easy  to  understand,"  she  said 
guilefully. 

"  For  an  untrained  mind — no,"  agreed  Mrs. 
Van  Duser  blandly.  "  I  feared  as  much,  and 
I  have  come  this  morning  because  I  wished  to 
go  over  with  you  somewhat  exhaustively  the 
points  mentioned  by  the  author,  in  order  to 
compare  them  with  your  own  more  practical 
experience.  I  am  about  to  present  a  paper 
before  the  Ontological  Club  on  *  The  Emotive 
States  as  factors  in  the  education  of  The 
Child,'  which  I  feel  sure  should  prove  invalu- 
able to  all  thoughtful  parents.  I  had  in- 
tended," she  added,  with  a  mordant  emphasis 
on  the  past  tense  of  the  verb,  "  to  dedicate  the 
brochure  to  you  upon  publication." 


52         Those  Brewster  Children 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  and  before 
Elizabeth  had  time  to  express  her  blended  con- 
trition, gratitude  and  appreciation,  two  hur- 
riedly slammed  doors  and  the  clatter  of  small 
feet  in  the  passage  announced  the  return  of 
the  children  from  school. 

Mrs.  Van  Duser's  severe  expression  relaxed 
perceptibly.  "  How  very  fortunate,"  she  obj 
served.  "  I  was  hoping  for  an  opportunity  of 
studying  certain  phenomena  at  first  hand. 
You  know,  my  dear,  I  so  seldom  see  children." 

Elizabeth's  tender  heart  was  touched  by  the 
unconscious  wistfulness  in  the  older  woman's 
eyes.  But  she  sighed  at  sight  of  the  gilt-edged 
memorandum  book  in  the  hands  of  her  guest. 
She  was  familiar  with  the  exhaustive  methods 
employed  by  Mrs.  Van  Duser  in  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge. 

"  You  will  not,  I  hope,  interrupt  any  normal 
procedure,"  that  lady  was  saying  in  a  sprightly 
tone,  calculated  to  restore  the  depressed  spirits 
of  the  younger  matron  to  their  usual  level. 
"  I  should  like — if  I  may — to  observe  the  chil- 
dren at  their  luncheon,  since  the  sense  stimuli 
connected  with  the  taking  of  food  is  exceed- 


Those  Brewster  Children         53 

ingly  instructive  as  related  to  the  cosmic  con- 
sciousness." 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  have  you  lunch 
with  us,"  faltered  Elizabeth,  her  thoughts 
busying  themselves  with  a  futile  review  of  the 
contents  of  her  larder.  Then  the  door  flew 
open  and  Carroll  and  Doris  dashed  in,  breath- 
less and  eager,  to  precipitate  their  small  per- 
sons upon  their  mother's  lap. 

"  I  was  a  naivful  good  girl  in  kindergarten, 
mother ! "  announced  Doris,  dancing  with  im- 
patience, "  an*  I  didn't  get  run  over,  or  any- 
thin*.  When  can  I  go  to  the  store  an*  spend 
all  my  money,  mother?  When?  Can  I  go 
now?  " 

"  Doris,  dear;  don't  you  see  Mrs.  Van  Duser? 
and  Carroll " 

But  the  boy  had  already  advanced  politely, 
and  was  standing  before  the  magisterial  pres- 
ence with  a  funny  little  air  of  resignation  to 
the  inevitable  which  forced  a  smile  to  his 
mother's  serious  lips. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  my  boy,  why  you  experi- 
ence pleasure  at  the  sight  of  your  mother?  " 
demanded  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  gazing  searchingly 


54         Those  Brewster  Children 

at  the  child  through  her  gold-mounted  lor- 
gnettes. 

"  I — like  my  mother,  better'n  any  body  else," 
replied  the  boy,  with  a  worried  pucker  of  his 
smooth  forehead. 

"Like? "  echoed  his  inquisitor,  looking  up 
from  a  hurriedly  pencilled  note.  "  And  what, 
pray,  do  you  mean  by  *  like '?  " 

"  I  mean  I — love  her,  because  she's  the  best- 
est  person  I  know." 

"  Is  it  because  she  gives  you  food  when  you 
are  hungry  that  you  love  your  parent?  Or 
can  you  give  me  another  reason?"  continued 
Mrs.  Van  Duser,  ignoring  the  comprehensive 
statement  advanced  by  the  boy. 

Carroll  glanced  doubtfuly  after  his  mother, 
as  she  hastily  withdrew  to  look  after  the  lunch- 
eon table. 

"  I — don't  know,"  he  stammered.  "  I  guess 
I  like  her  when  I'm  hungry  just  the  same." 

"  C.,  aged  eight  years,  unable  to  enumerate 
reasons  for  fondness  of  parent,"  wrote  Mrs. 
Van  Duser,  with  every  appearance  of  satisfac- 
tion. "  The  reasoning  faculties  apparently 
dormant  at  this  age." 

"  What  are  you  most  afraid  of? "  was  her 


Those  Brewster  Children          55 

next  question,  accompanied  by  an  ingratiating 
smile,  calculated  to  disarm  youthful  timidity. 

At  this  moment  Richard,  who  had  been  peace- 
fully asleep  on  the  sofa,  awoke,  and  becoming 
slowly  aware  of  the  majestic  presence  at  his 
side,  set  up  a  doleful  cry. 

Whereupon  Mrs.  Van  Duser  noted  neatly 
that  "  an  unexpected  visual  impression  evi- 
dently caused  anxiety,  without  any  assignable 
reason,  in  the  normal  infant  R." 

And  when  the  normal  infant  scrambled  down 
from  the  couch  and  retreated  kitchenward  un- 
der the  careful  supervision  of  his  older  brother, 
she  observed  further  that  "  the  dawning  of  the 
paternal  instinct  of  protection  was  observable 
in  the  child  C." 


VI 


THE  conduct  of  the  children  at  the  luncheon 
table  was  marked  by  such  unexampled  pro- 
priety of  manner  that  Mrs.  Van  Duser  was 
visibly  disappointed.  She  could  hardly  have 
been  expected  to  know  that  Elizabeth  had  re- 
sorted to  shameless  bribery  in  advance  of  the 
meal  with  a  shining  coin  in  each  small  pocket, 
"  to  be  spent  exactly  as  you  choose,"  and  that 
Richard  was  taking  his  food  in  the  kitchen  un- 
der the  lax  supervision  of  the  Norwegian  maid. 
Still  the  occasion  was  not  wholly  barren  of 
material  for.  a  trained  psychologist,  as  Mrs. 
Van  Duser  was  pleased  to  term  herself. 

"  The  psychophysical  processes,"  she  ob- 
served learnedly,  "  should  be  closely  observed 
by  the  wise  guardian,  in  order  to  properly 
graft  desired  complications  on  native  reac- 
tions." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  altogether  under- 
stand," murmured  Elizabeth,  secretly  grateful 
that  her  guest's  preoccupation  of  mind  ren- 
56 


Those  Brewster  Children         57 

dered  her  oblivious  to  the  blunders  of  Celia,  as 
she  plodded  heavily  about  the  table.  "  But  I 
should  like  to  ask  you,  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  if 
you  approve  of — whipping  children  ?  " 

Mrs.  Van  Duser  dropped  her  pencil  and  fo- 
cussed  her  piercing  regard  upon  the  wife  of 
her  distant  relative. 

"  Decidedly  not,  my  dear  Elizabeth,"  she 
enunciated  in  her  deepest  contralto.  "  Cor- 
poral punishment  brutalises  the  child  by  im- 
plying that  a  rational  being  is,  or  may  be,  on 
the  level  of  the  animal.  It  can  be  only  too 
evident  that  if  one  treats  a  child  like  an  ani- 
mal, it  will  behave  like  an  animal.  I  will  send 
you  an  excellent  pamphlet  on  the  subject, 
which  you  will  do  well,  to  study.  In  the  mean- 
time you  should  remember " 

Mrs.  Van  Duser  stopped  short,  raised  her 
lorgnette  and  stared  hard  at  Doris.  That 
young  person  had  suddenly  left  her  chair  and 
was  whispering  in  her  mother's  «ar,  in  the 
peculiar,  sibilant  whisper  of  an  eager  child. 

"  I'm  through  of  my  dinner,  mother,"  was 
wafted  distinctly  to  the  attentive  ears  of  the 
guest.  "  An'  I  want  to  go  an'  buy  daddy's 
'fumery  this  minute.  You  said  I  might, 


58          Those  Brewster  Children 

mother;  you  said  I  might. — Yes;  but  when  is 
she  going  home,  mother?  when?  " 

Far  from  evincing  displeasure  the  great  lady 
displayed  the  sincerest  gratification.  "  A 
most  interesting  example  of  ideation,"  she  ob- 
served. "  My  dear  Elizabeth,  please  explain 
the  child's  emotions,  if  you  are  aware  of  them. 
I  fail  to  observe  anger  or  dislike,  or  even — 
as  might  well  be  expected — awe.  Why  do  you 
wish  me  to  go  home  ? "  she  inquired  directly 
of  Doris,  who  had  retreated  behind  her 
mother's  chair  in  pouting  dismay. 

Elizabeth  experienced  a  hysterical  desire  to 
laugh ;  but  she  instantly  repressed  it.  "  You 
should  explain  to  Mrs.  Van  Duser,  Doris,  that 
you  spilled  father's  bay-rum  this  morning,  and 
that  mother  said  you  must  buy  him  a  fresh 
bottle  with  your  own  money,"  she  said  soberly. 

"I  want  to  go  now,"  whispered  the  child. 
"  You  said  I  might,  mother ;  you  promised!  " 

"  Excellent ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  Duser, 
writing  rapidly  in  her  book.  "  You  really 
ought,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  to  preserve  a  care- 
ful memoranda  of  these  interesting  mental 
movements  of  your  offspring,"  she  observed 
convincingly.  "  Every  properly  constructed 


Those  Brewster  Children          59 

parent  should  endeavour  to  so  assist  science. 
However  crudely  and  unscientifically  expressed, 
such  records  would  prove  of  incalculable  value 
to  the  student." 

She  turned  to  Doris  with  a  complete  change 
of  manner.  It  was  no  longer  the  ontological 
Mrs.  Van  Duser,  but  the  great  lady  from 
Beacon  Street  who  spoke.  "  You  have  been 
very  rude  indeed,  my  child,"  she  said  sternly; 
"  and  little  girls  should  never  be  rude ;  but  I 
will  take  you  with  me  in  the  carriage  to  pur- 
chase the  toilet  article  referred  to,  and  send 
you  home  afterwards,  if  your  mother  will  per- 
mit." 

As  Elizabeth  watched  the  flushed  and  tri- 
umphant Doris,  departing  in  state  in  the  Van 
Duser  carriage,  the  jingling  contents  of  her 
bank  in  her  small  pocket,  she  was  conscious  of 
a  bewildering  sense  of  failure.  She  had  sin- 
cerely tried  to  impress  a  lesson  of  obedience 
and  a  respect  for  the  rights  of  others  upon  the 
mind  of  her  child,  and,  lo !  the  culprit  was  en- 
joying a  long-wished- for  treat ! 

The  arrival  of  Miss  Evelyn  Tripp,  in  a  han- 
som cab  with  a  small  much-belabelled  trunk  on 
top,  successfully  diverted  her  mind  from  this 


60         Those  Brewster  Children 

and  other  ethical  problems.  Miss  Tripp's  re- 
cent misfortunes  had  as  yet  left  no  traces  on 
her  slight,  elegant  personality.  She  entered 
quite  in  her  old  fashion,  amid  a  subdued  rustle 
of  soft  silken  garments,  a  flutter  of  plumes  and 
a  gracious  odour  of  violets. 

"  My  dear !  '*  she  exclaimed,  clasping  and 
kissing  Elizabeth,  quite  in  the  latest  mode. 
"  How  well  you  are  looking !  Indeed,  you  are 
younger  and  far,  far  prettier  than  the  day 
you  were  married!  How  vividly  I  remember 
that  day,  and  I  am  sure  you  do!  How  I  did 
work  to  have  everything  pass  off  as  it  should, 
and  so  many  persons  have  told  me  since  that 
it  was  really  the  sweetest  wedding  they  ever 
saw!  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  it  was  so 
long  ago.  What!  You  don't  tell  me  that 
great  boy  is  Carroll!  Come  here  and  let  Aunty 
Evelyn  kiss  you,  dear.  And  Doris?  She  was 
such  a  dear,  tiny  thing  when  I  saw  her  last. 
Oh,  that  is  the  baby;  you  say!  No;  Elizabeth 
— not  that  great  child!  Fancy!  I  declare  I 
feel  like  a  Methuselah  when  I  look  at  my 
friend's  children.  I  hate  to  grow  old — really 
old;  don't  you  know." 

Miss  Tripp  paused  to  remove  her  plumed  hat, 


Those  Brewster  Children         61 

while  Elizabeth  hastened  to  assure  her  friend 
that  she  really  hadn't  changed  in  the  least. 
This  was  quite  true,  since  Miss  Tripp  was  of 
that  somewhat  thin  and  colourless  type  of 
American  womanhood  upon  which  the  passing 
years  appear  to  leave  little  trace. 

"  Oh,  my  dear ! "  sighed  Miss  Tripp,  "  I  am 
changed;  everything  has  changed  with  me,  I 
assure  you.  Mother  and  I  are  obliged  to  live 
off  air,  exactly  like  wee  little  church  mice. 
And  I  am  simply  worn  to  a  fringe  trying  to 
economise  and  manage.  I  never  was  extrava- 
gant ;  you  know  that,  dear,  but  now .  Well ; 

I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  us  unless 
something  happens." 

"  Something  will  happen,  dear,"  said  Eliza- 
beth, more  than  ever  warm-heartedly  deter- 
mined to  make  her  friend  as  happy  as  herself. 
"  Now  I'm  going  to  leave  you  to  lie  down  and 
rest  a  little  before  dinner,"  she  added  guile- 
fully, as  she  bethought  herself  of  the  various 
culinary  operations  already  in  progress  under 
the  unthinking  control  of  Celia.  "  A  friend 
of  Sam's — a  Mr.  Hickey,  chances  to  be  dining 
here  to-night;  I  hope  you  won't  mind,  dear. 
It — just  happened  so." 


62          [Those  Brewster  Children 

Miss  Tripp  turned  to  gaze  searchingly  at  her 
friend.  "  You  can't  mean  George  Hickey — a 
civil  engineer?  "  she  asked. 

"Why,  yes;  do  you  know  him?" 

"  My  dear ;  it's  the  oddest  thing ;  but  lately 
I  seem  to  meet  that  man  wherever  I  go.  He 
is  a  friend  of  the  Gerald  Doolittles  in  Dor- 
chester— you  know  who  I  mean — and  spends 
a  Sunday  there  occasionally;  and  when  I  was 
visiting  Leticia  Marston  last  fall,  lo  and  be- 
hold! Mr.  Hickey  turned  up  there  for  the 
week  end!  I  used  to  know  him  years  ago 
when  we  were  both  children." 

"  Sam  is  associated  with  Mr.  Hickey  in  a 
professional  way,"  observed  Elizabeth,  with  a 
careful  indifference  of  manner.  "  He  dines 
with  us  once  in  a  while."  She  paused  to  listen, 
with  her  head  on  one  side,  while  a  look  of  alarm 
stole  over  her  attentive  face. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear? "  'inquired  the 
unaccustomed  Miss  Tripp.  "  Do  you  hear 
anything?  " 

"  No,  Evelyn ;  I  don't,  and  the  silence  is  sus- 
picious. I  think  I'll  run  down  stairs  and  see 
what  the  boys  are  doing.  Try  and  rest,  dear, 
till  I  call  you."  And  Elizabeth  accomplished 


Those  Brewster  Children          63 

a  hasty  exit  by  way  of  the  back  stairs  and  the 
kitchen,  where  she  was  in  time  to  frustrate  the 
intelligent  Celia  as  she  was  about  putting  the 
French  peas  over  to  boil  an  hour  before  din- 
ner time.  From  thence  she  sought  the  sitting- 
room,  where  she  had  left  her  two  sons  amicably 
engaged  in  constructing  a  tall  and  wobbly 
tower  out  of  building  blocks.  Carroll  had 
vanished,  and  her  amazed  and  indignant  eyes 
lighted  upon  the  person  of  her  youngest  son 
kneeling  in  a  chair  before  the  forbidden 
aquarium,  over  which  he  leaned  in  a  state  of 
rapturous  oblivion  of  past  experiences,  his 
plump  hands  buried  in  the  sand  at  the  bottom 
of  the  tank,  while  the  alarmed  gold  fish  flashed 
in  and  out  between  the  dripping  sleeves  of  his 
freshly-ironed  blouse. 

"  Richard  Brewster ! "  she  cried.  Then  wrath 
and  a  disheartening  sense  of  the  futility  of  un- 
assisted moral  suasion  quite  swept  her  off  her 
feet.  She  seized  the  child  and  laying  him 
across  her  lap  in  time-honoured  fashion, 
handed  down  from  a  remote  ancestry,  spanked 
him  with  a  speed  and  thoroughness  not  to  be 
surpassed  by  Grandmother  Carroll  in  her  most 
energetic  mood. 


VII 

ELIZABETH  was  fluttering  anxiously  about  the 
table  in  her  small  dining-room  when  her  hus- 
band entered  in  his  usual  breezy  fashion  and 
laid  a  bunch  of  fragrant  carnations  before  her. 

"  A  finishing  touch  for  your  table,  Betty," 
he  said;  and  added  with  lover-like  enthusiasm, 
"  My !  how  pretty  you're  looking  to-night ! " 

"  I  shouldn't  think  I'd  look  pretty  after  the 
day  I've  put  in,"  she  told  him  as  she  ar- 
ranged the  flowers  in  water.  "  Sam,  Mrs. 
Van  Duser  was  here  to  luncheon." 

"No?" 

"  She  came  to  ask  me  if  I  had  read  *  An- 
thropological Investigations  on  one  thousand 
children,  white  and  colored,'  and  I  hadn't  even 
looked  at  it." 

"  So  you  flatly  flunked  the  exam ;  poor 
Betty!" 

"  Not  exactly,  Sam ;  I — told  her  I  didn't 
quite — understand  the  subject." 

"  Ah,  Machiavellian  Betty!  Did  she  tumble?  " 

"  Oh,  Sam !  what  a  way  to  speak  of  Mrs. 
64 


Those  Brewster  Children          65 

Van  Duser.  I  was  the  one  to  tumble,  as  you 
call  it.  She  graciously  picked  me  up.  Of 
course  Doris  was  naughty,  and  Celia  spilled 
cocoa  on  the  table-cloth  and  passed  every- 
thing on  the  wrong  side.  Then  after  Mrs. 
Van  Duser  went,  Evelyn  came. — She's  up-stairs 
now,  dressing  for  dinner.  And — after  that — 
I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  of  me,  Sam ;  but 
I — was  nervous  or  something  I  think,  and  I — 
whipped  Richard." 

"You— what?" 

"  After  all  I've  said  about  Marian  Stanford, 
too!  I  just  hate  myself  for  doing  it.  But 
I  had  dressed  that  child  twice  all  clean,  and 
when  I  came  down  to  see  about  dinner  and 
found  him  playing  in  the  aquarium  again, 
Sam,  dripping  water  all  over  the  floor,  and 
with  his  clothes  soaked  to  the  skin,  I  just 
seemed  to  lose  all  control  of  myself.  I  snatched 
the  poor  darling  up  and — and — spanked  him 
as  hard  as  I  could.  The  strange  part  of  it 
is  that  I — seemed  to  enjoy  doing  it." 

Her  doleful  air  of  abject  contrition  was  too 
much  for  Sam.  He  roared  with  irrepressible 
laughter.  "  Forgive  me,  Betty,"  he  entreated ; 
"  but  really,  you  know " 


66         Those  Brewster  Children 

"  I  understand  now  exactly  why  people  whip 
their  children,"  went  on  Elizabeth,  descending 
into  abysmal  depths  of  humility  and  grovel- 
ling there  with  visible  satisfaction.  "  I  gave 
way  to  uncontrollable  rage  just  because  I 
knew  I  must  take  the  trouble  to  dress  the 
poor  little  darling  again,  and  I  couldn't  think 
for  the  minute  what  flannels  to  put  on  him.  So 
I  revenged  myself,  in  just  a  common,  spiteful, 
vulgar  way.  No,  Sam;  you  needn't  try  to 
make  light  of  what  I  did.  Nothing  can  ex- 
cuse it ! " 

At  that  instant  the  misused  infant,  dragging 
a  train  of  iron  cars  behind  him,  hove  into  view. 

"Chu-chu-chu!"  he  droned.  "  Det  out  the 
way  I  Here  tomes  the  'spress  train ! "  His 
cherubic  countenance  was  serene  and  rosy;  he 
beamed  impartially  upon  his  parents  as  he 
scuffed  across  the  floor. 

"  Well,"  said  his  father,  endeavouring  (un- 
successfully) to  view  the  matter  in  a  serious 
light,  "  I  fail  to  observe  any  signs  of  violent 
abuse  or  tokens  of  abject  fear  about  the  young 
person;  I  guess  you  didn't " 

"  Hush,  Sam !  I  hope  he's  forgotten  it — the 
darling!  Do  you  love  mother,  baby?" 


Those  Brewster  Children         67 

"  I'm  a  dreat  big  engine-man ! "  vociferated 
the  infant,  submitting  cheerfully  to  his 
mother's  kisses,  "  an*  I  love  'oo  more'n  a  sou- 
sand  million!  Chu-chu!  Toot-toot!  Ding- 
dong!" 

"  How  about  the  other  young  Brewsters  ?  " 
inquired  their  father,  with  a  twinkle  of  mock 
solicitude  in  his  blue  eyes.  "  Have  they  been 
pursuing  the  undeviating  paths  of  rectitude, 
or  have  you — er — been  moved  to " 

"  Sam,  if  you  make  fun  of  me  about — what 

I  did  to  Richard,  I "  her  voice  broke,  and 

she  hid  her  eyes  on  his  shoulder.  "  I  thought," 
she  said,  "  that  it  was  my  duty  to  tell 
you." 

"  I'm  not  making  fun  of  you,  little  woman. 
Perish  the  thought ! "  and  he  kissed  her  con- 
vincingly. "  I  don't  kiiow  what  I  should — or 
shouldn't  do — if  I  had  to  cope  with  the  young 
miscreants  single-handed  all  day.  Where  is 
Doris,  by  the  way?" 

She  told  him  about  the  broken  bay-rum 
bottle,  and  described  the  scene  at  the  luncheon 
table.  "  I  was  so  ashamed,"  she  concluded ; 
"but  what  could  I  do?" 

"  Let  me  laugh  again,  Betty ! "  he  begged. 


68         Those  Brewster  Children 

"  That's  too  much,  you  know.  Fancy  our 
small  Doris  having  the — er — audacity  to  stand 
up  and  audibly  hint  that  Mrs.  J.  Mortimer 
Van  Duser's  room  would  be  more  acceptable 
than  her  company.  I  wish  I'd  been  there  to 
see  and  hear." 

"  Mrs.  Van  Duser  said  that  it  was  a  most  in- 
teresting example  of  ideation — whatever  that 
is,"  said  his  Elizabeth  rather  proudly.  "  She's 
writing  a  paper  for  the  Ontological  Club, 
and  she's  going  to  put  all  three  of  the  children 
in." 

"As  what — Concrete  examples  of  the  genus 
enfant  terrible?  "  he  inquired  cautiously. 

Elizabeth  was  surveying  her  table  with  sat- 
isfied eyes.  She  did  not  appear  to  have  heard 
his  question. 

"  It  may  be  hard  work  to  take  care  of  all 
that  silver  and  glass  we  had  for  wedding  pres- 
ents, Sam,"  she  said  thoughtfully ;  "  but  on 
occasions  it  is  useful." 

"  Yes ;  if  the  foreigner  in  the  kitchen  didn't 
too  often  turn  our  dancing  into  mourning  by 
smashing  it." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  Celia  wash  one  of  these 
dishes,"  she  told  him  firmly. 


Those  Brewster  Children          69 

"Who  is  going  to  wash  them?"  he  asked 
resignedly. 

"  I  am — after  Mr.  Hickey's  gone  and  Ev- 
elyn's in  bed." 

"  *  That  means  me,'  "  he  quoted  irreverently. 
"  I'm  a  thoroughly  house-broken  husband,  and 
you  can  depend  upon  me,  Betty,  every  shot." 

She  flashed  him  a  grateful  smile.  "  Of  course 
I  know  that,  Sam,"  was  all  she  said;  but  her 
eyes  were  eloquent  of  love  and  happy  trust. 
"  What  do  you  think,  Sam,"  she  added  ir- 
relevantly ;  "  Evelyn  has  known  Mr.  Hickey 
a  long  time  already." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  Hickey ! " 

"  Yes  ;  that's  what  I  thought.  You  see,  Sam, 
if — if  anything  should  happen,  it  wouldn't  be 
all  our  doing ;  and  so  in  a  way,  Sam,  I  actually 
felt  relieved  when  Evelyn  said  that  she  had 
met  Mr.  Hickey  before.  It  is  really  an  awful 
responsibility." 

"What?  to  ask  Hickey  to  dinner?  He 
didn't  seem  to  mind  it." 

"  Don't  be  flippant,  Sam,"  she  said  with  dig- 
nity. "  You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean. 
If  Mr.  Hickey  should  fall  in  love  with  Evelyn 
— and  I  will  say  that  she  never  looked  more 


70          Those  Brewster  Children 

attractive  than  she  does  now — and  if  she 
should " 

He  interrupted  her  with  a  hasty  kiss.  "I've 
got  to  go  up  and  dress,"  he  reminded  her. 
"  Don't  you  worry,  Betty ;  if  he  should,  and 
she  should,  then  they  both  would;  and  all  you 
and  I  would  be  required  to  do  would  be  to  buy 
them  a  clock  that  wouldn't  go,  or  a  dozen 
pate  de  foies  gras  implements — only  let  it  be 
something  useful.  By  the  way,  I  see  you've  set 
the  table  for  the  children.  Do  you  think  that 
is — er — exactly  the  part  of  wisdom  ?  " 

"  No,  Sam ;  I  do  not.  But  I  had  to  make  it 
up  to  Richard  someway,  so  I  promised  to  let 
him  have  dinner  with  us,  and  Evelyn  quite  in- 
sisted upon  the  others.  She  thinks  Carroll 
simply  perfect,  and  she  says  Doris  is  the  most 
fascinating  child  she  ever  saw." 

"  Well,"  he  acquiesced,  "  they're  the  biggest 
and  best  half  of  the  Brewster  family,  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it,  and  Hickey  always  wants 
to  see  them  when  he  comes." 

Half  an  hour  later  Elizabeth  was  putting  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  toilet,  while  the  chil- 
dren, immaculate  and  shining,  hovered  admir- 
ingly about  the  dressing-table. 


Those  Brewster  Children         71 

"  Now  remember,  Carroll,  you  mustn't  get  to 
quarrelling  with  Doris  about  anything." 

"I  won't,  mother;  I  promise." 

"  We're  going  to  have  ice-cream  for  dessert, 
and " 

"  Oh-e-e ! "  in  a  rapturous  chorus  from  all  the 
children. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  make  that  noise  when 
Celia  brings  it  in  to  the  table;  that's  why  I'm 
telling  you  beforehand." 

Richard  was  pirouetting  heavily  on  his  little 
stubbed  shoes.  "  Oh-e-e ! "  he  repeated,  "  ice- 
cweam ! " 

"  Now,  do  you  think  you  can  remember? " 
asked  Elizabeth,  clasping  a  string  of  gold 
beads  about  her  pretty  throat,  and  turning  to 
meet  the  three  pairs  of  upturned  eyes.  "I 
want  Aunty  Evelyn  to  think  you've  improved 
a  great  deal  since  the  last  time  she  was  here. 
You  weren't  very  good  that  time." 

Carroll's  clear  gaze  met  his  mother's  reprov- 
ingly. "  Do  you  want  Aunty  Evelyn  to  think 
we've  improved,  if  we  haven't  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Because  we're  really  getting  badder  most 
every  day." 

"  You're  badder,  you  mean,"  said  Doris,  with 


72         Those  Brewster  Children 

a  superior  and  pitying  smile ;  "  I'm  as  good 
's  I  can  be.  Mrs.  Van  Duser  said  I  was  a  very 
inter-est-in'  'zample  of  a  child.  So  there !  " 

Carroll  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
quarrel  with  you,  Doris,  'cause  I  promised 
mother  I  wouldn't,"  he  said  with  dignity ;  "  but 
we  are  badder — 'specially  you;  you  didn't 
mind  mother  three  times  to-day." 

"  I  am  not  badder." 

"  I  said  I  wouldn't  quarrel,  Doris ;  but  you 
are — very  much  badder." 

"  Hush,  children !  '*  exclaimed  Elizabeth, 
hurriedly  intervening  between  the  militant 
pair.  "  Come  right  down  stairs,  and  don't 
talk  to  each  other  at  all  unless  you  can  be 
pleasant  and  polite." 

Miss  Evelyn  Tripp  presently  appeared  in 
a  wonderful  toilet,  all  lace  and  twinkling  jets. 
She  exclaimed  over  Carroll's  marvellous  gain 
in  inches,  and  Doris'  brilliant  colour,  and  kissed 
and  cooed  over  Richard. 

"  They're  certainly  the  dearest  children  in 
the  world,"  she  said.  "  I've  been  simply  wild 
to  see  them  all  these  months,  and  you,  too, 
Betty  dear !  I've  so  much  to  tell  you !  " 

She  twined  her  arm  caressingly  about  Doris, 


Those  Brewster  Children          73 

and  smiled  brilliantly  down  at  the  little  girl, 
who  gazed  with  round  appreciative  eyes  at  the 
visitor's  gown  and  at  the  jewels  which  sparkled 
on  her  small  white  hands. 

"  Both  of  my  front  teeth  are  all  wiggly," 
whispered  the  child,  feeling  that  something  out 
of  the  ordinary  was  demanded  of  her  in  a 
social  way.  "  I  can  wiggle  them  with  my 
tongue." 

"  Can  you,  darling?  How  remarkable !  Never 
mind ;  you'll  soon  have  some  nice  new  ones  that 
won't  wiggle." 

Doris  giggled  rapturously.  "  We're  going  to 
have  ice-cream  for  dinner,"  was  her  next  con- 
fidence. "  But  I'm  not  going  to  act  s'prised 
when  Celia  brings  it  in.  We've  all  promised 
mother  we  won't,  even  if  it's  pink.  I  hope  it'll 
be  pink;  don't  you?" 

"  Doris,"  warned  her  mother,  "  you're  talk- 
ing too  much." 

"  Oh,  do  let  the  dear  little  soul  say  anything 
she  likes  to  me,  Betty !  "  protested  Miss  Tripp. 
"  If  you  knew  how  I  enjoyed  it! " 

Doris  nestled  closer  to  the  visitor,  eyeing  her 
mother  with  the  naughtily  demure  expression 
of  a  kitten  stealing  cream.  "  I  was  going  to 


74         Those  Brewster  Children 

tell  you  something  funny,"  she  said,  "  but  I 
can't  think  what  it  was.  I  guess  I'll  remem- 
ber when  we're  eating  dinner." 

"The  artless  prattle  of  a  child  is  so  refresh- 
ing, you  know,"  continued  Miss  Tripp,  "  after 
all  the  empty  conventionalities  of  society.  I 
simply  love  to  hear  the  little  darlings — espe- 
cially yours,  dear  Betty.  You  are  bringing 
them  up  so  beautifully!" 


VIII 

WHEN  Mr.  George  Hickey  rang  the  bell  at  the 
door  of  the  modest  Brewster  residence  that 
night,  it  was  with  the  pleasant  anticipation  of 
a  simple,  but  well-cooked  dinner,  of  the  sort  a 
bachelor,  condemned  by  his  solitary  estate  to 
prolonged  residence  in  that  semi-public  car- 
avansary known  as  the  American  boarding- 
house,  seldom  enjoys. 

He  was  very  far  indeed  from  a  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  in  the  oft-quoted  position 
of  the  man  in  a  boat  on  the  hither  side  of  the 
great  rapids  of  Niagara.  Mr.  Hickey  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  into  feeling  a 
somewhat  uncommon  interest  in  Miss  Evelyn 
Tripp,  it  is  true;  but  he  attributed  this  feel- 
ing wholly  to  the  fact  that  he  had  known  Miss 
Tripp  when  he  was  a  tall,  awkward  boy  of 
twenty  and  she  was  a  rosy,  fascinating  miss 
of  sixteen.  She  had  laughed  at  him  slily  in 
those  days,  and  he  had  resented  her  mirth  with 

75 


76          Those  Brewster  Children 

all  the  secret  and  hence  futile  agony  which 
marks  the  intercourse  of  the  awkward  youth 
with  the  self-possessed  maid.  But  the  scar 
which  Evelyn's  youthful  laughter  had  left  in 
his  bosom  had  remained  unwontedly  tender — 
as  an  old  wound  sometimes  will;  and  when  af- 
ter the  lapse  of  years  they  had  met  once 
more  Mr.  Hickey  found  the  lady  so  surpris- 
ingly sweet,  so  gentle,  so  altogether  tactful 
and  sympathetic,  that  he  could  hardly  escape 
a  pleasant  and  soothing  sense  of  gratitude. 
They  spoke  of  old  times — very  old  times  they 
were;  the  mere  mention  of  which  brought  a 
delicate  blush  to  Miss  Tripp's .  cheek.  And 
the  auroral  light  of  youth,  which  never  ap- 
pears so  roseate  as  when  it  shines  upon  the 
cold  peaks  of  middle  life,  irradiated  their  com- 
mon past  and  appeared  to  linger  fascinat- 
ingly over  Miss  Tripp's  somewhat  faded  per- 
son. 

It  had  not,  however,  occurred  to  Mr.  Hickey 
that  the  foregoing  had  any  bearing  whatever 
upon  his  own  immediate  future,  nor  upon  the 
immediate  future  of  Miss  Evelyn  Tripp.  In 
a  word,  Mr.  Hickey  was  very  far  from  con- 
templating matrimony  when  he  entered  the 


Those  Brewster  Children          77 

Brewster's  cheerful  little  parlour,  bearing  a 
box  of  bonbons  for  its  mistress,  and  a  jump- 
ing-jack  capable  of  singular  and  varied  con- 
tortions, for  the  young  Brewsters. 

Miss  Tripp  appeared  very  much  surprised  to 
meet  Mr.  Hickey  again;  she  gave  him  a  beau- 
tiful little  hand  of  welcome  from  the  deep 
chair  where  she  was  enthroned  with  Richard 
upon  her  knee  ruthlessly  crumpling  the  skirt 
of  one  of  her  carefully  cherished  gowns. 

"  I'm  telling  the  children  a  fairy  story,"  she 
said  archly ;  "  you  mustn't  interrupt." 

"  May  I  listen,  if  I'm  a  good  boy  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Hickey,  endeavouring  to  assume  a  light 
and  festive  society  air,  which  hardly  com- 
ported with  his  tall  spare  figure  and  the  air 
of  sober  professionalism  which  he  had  acquired 
during  a  somewhat  stern  and  strenuous  past. 

Carroll,  who  guarded  Miss  Tripp's  chair  on 
the  right,  exchanged  puzzled  glances  with 
Doris  who  occupied  the  left.  The  little  girl 
giggled. 

"  You  are  n't  a  boy,"  she  said,  addressing  Mr. 
Hickey  with  a  confidence  inspired  by  past 
acquaintanceship ;  "  you're  all  grown  up." 

"  I  like   fairy   stories,  anyway,"  he  asserted 


78         Those  Brewster  Children 

untruthfully ;  "and  I  want  to  hear  the  one  Miss 
Tripp  is  telling.  You'll  let  me;  won't  you, 
Doris?" 

"  I'll  let  you,  if  Aunty  Evelyn'll  let  you ;  but 
I  guess  she  won't." 

Miss  Tripp  laughed  musically.  "  What  a 
quaint  little  dear  it  is,"  she  murmured,  kiss- 
ing the  child's  pink  cheek.  "  Why  shouldn't 
Aunty  Evelyn  let  Mr.  Hickey  hear  the  story 
if  he  wants  to,  dear?  " 

"  He's  too  old,"  said  Doris  convincingly. 
'*  He  wouldn't  care  about  Cinderella  losing  off 
her  glass  slipper." 

"  Oh-e-e,  Doris  Brewster ! "  exclaimfed  Car- 
roll, swelling  with  the  superior  enlightenment 
of  his  three  years  of  seniority.  "  That's  very 
rude  indeed!  Mr.  Hickey  doesn't  look  so  very 
old.  He's  got  quite  a  lot  of  hair  left  on  the 
sides  of  his  head,  and " 

"  Thanks,  my  boy,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hickey 
hastily.  "  But  don't  entirely  floor  me  by  enu- 
merating all  my  youthful  charms.  How  about 
that  slipper  of  Cinderella's,  Miss  Tripp ;  there's 
a  prince  in  that  story,  isn't  there?  with — er — 
plenty  of  hair  on  top  of  his  head  ?  " 

Miss  Tripp,  who  was  actually  blushing  pink, 


Those  Brewster  Children          79 

quite  in  her  old  girlish  fashion,  exchanged 
mirthful  glances  with  the  engineer. 

"  I  was  just  coming  to  the  prince,"  she  said. 
"  He  was — oh,  such  a  beautiful  prince,  all 
dressed  in  pale  blue,  embroidered  with  pearls 
and  silver,  and  on  his  breast  a  great  flashing 
diamond  star.  And  when  he  saw  Cinderella, 
standing  all  by  herself,  in  her  beautiful  gauzy 
ball-dress " 

"  An'  her  glass  slippers ! "  gurgled  Doris 
rapturously. 

"  An'  her  gwass  sippers ! "  echoed  Richard, 
hugging  the  story-teller  in  a  sudden  spasm  of 
affection. 

"  Yes,  her  glass  slippers,  of  course,  darlings," 
cooed  Miss  Tripp ;  "  but  the  prince  did  not 
notice  the  slippers,  he  was  so  agitated  by  the 
sight  of  her  lovely  face  and  her  shining  golden 
hair." 

Mr.  Hickey  caught  himself  gazing  dreamily 
at  Miss  Tripp's  elaborately  arranged  coiffure. 
The  yellow  gas  light  fell  becomingly  upon  the 
abundant  light  brown  waves  and  coils,  touch- 
ing them  into  a  shimmering  gold  which  he  did 
not  remember  to  have  noticed  before.  How 
well  she  was  telling  the  story,  too;  and  how 


80          Those  Brewster  Children 

fond  of  her  the  Brewster  children  appeared  to 
be.  He  recalled  mistily  that  someone  had  said, 
or  written — perhaps  it  was  one  of  those  old 
author  chaps — that  it  was  impossible  to  de- 
ceive a  child.  Mr.  Hickey  was  convinced  that 
this  must  be  true.  And  insensibly  he  fell  to 
thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be  if  this  were 
his  own  fire-side,  and  if  the  lady  in  the  deep 
wicker  chair  were . 

A  sound  of  small  hand-clapping  brought  him 
out  of  this  blissful  revery  with  a  start.  "  I 
like  that  part  best  of  all,"  Carroll  was  saying; 
"  an'  if  I'd  been  that  prince  I'd  'av  taken  my 
big,  shining  sword  and  cut  off  the  heads  of 
those  bad,  wicked  sisters !  Yes ;  I  would ;  I'd 
like  to  do  it !  "  And  the  sanguinary  small  boy 
swaggered  up  and  down,  his  shoulders  squared 
and  his  eyes  shining. 

"  Oh,  my  dear ! "  protested  Miss  Tripp 
mildly.  "  You  wouldn't  be  so  unkind ;  I'm 
sure  you  wouldn't." 

"  I'd  take  all  their  pretty  dresses  away  an* 
wear  'em  myself,"  shrilled  Doris  excitedly. 
"An'  I'd— pinch  'em;  I'd " 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  dear,  sweet  Cinderella 
did,"  interrupted  Miss  Tripp,  tactfully  seizing 


Those  Brewster  Children          81 

the  opportunity  to  impress  a  moral  lesson. 
"  She  forgave  her  unkind  step-mother  and  her 
two  rude,  spiteful  sisters,  and  gave  them  each 
a  castle  and  many,  many  lovely  gowns  and 
jewels;  and  after  that  they  loved  Cinderella 
dearly — they  couldn't  help  it.  And  all  of 
them  were  good  and  happy  for  ever  afterward." 

The  children  stared  in  round-eyed  displeas- 
ures at  this  ethical  but  entirely  tame  denoue- 
ment. 

"  That  isn't  in  my  story-book,"  said  Carroll 
positively.  "  Cinderella  married  the  Prince,  an* 
the  fairy  god-mother  turned  the  bad  sisters 
into  rats,  an'  made  'em  draw  her  carriage  for 
ever  an'  ever." 

"  Why,  Carroll  Brewster !  I  guess  you  made 
that  up ! "  cried  Doris.  "  The  fairy  god- 
mother didn't  turn  the  bad  sisters  into  any- 
thing; she  jus*  waved  her  wand  an'  turned 
Cinderella's  of  ragged  clo'es  -into  a  lovely 
spangled  weddin'  dress,  an'  then " 

"  She  turned  'em  into  rats,"  repeated  Car- 
roll doggedly.  "  An'  I'm  glad  she  did  it." 

"  She  did  not  turn  'em  into  rats ! " 

"She  did!" 

"She  didn't!" 


82         [Those  Brewster  Children 

At  this  crucial  moment  entered  Elizabeth, 
flushed  and  bright-eyed  from  a  final  encounter 
with  the  elemental  forces  in  the  kitchen. 
"  Won't  you  all  come  out  to  dinner,"  she  said 
prettily ;  "  I'm  sure  you  must  have  concluded 
that  dining  was  among  the  lost  arts  by  this 
time." 

"Not  in  this  house,"  said  Mr.  Hickey  gal- 
lantly. "  This  is  one  of  the  few — the  very 
few  places  where  one  has  the  inestimable  privi- 
lege of  really  dining.  The  balance  of  the  time 
I  merely  take  food  from  a  strict  sense  of  duty." 

"  We're  going  to  have  ice-cream,"  whispered 
Carroll  kindly. 

His  father,  who  had  caught  the  whisper, 
laughed  outright.  "  He  wants  to  give  you 
something  to  look  forward  to,  George,"  he 
said,  as  he  tried  the  edge  of  his  carving-knife. 
"  If  variety  is  the  spice  of  life  anticipation 
might  be  said  to  be  its  sweetening — eh?  Will 
you  have  your  beef  rare  or  well-done,  Miss 
Tripp?" 

"Well-done,  if  you  please,"  murmured  Miss 
Tripp,  smiling  happily  as  she  squeezed  Doris' 
chubby  hand  under  the  table-cloth. 

The  little  girl's  eyes  were  very  bright  as  she 


Those  Brewster  Children         83 

said,  "  I  like  to  have  you  a-visitin',  Aunty 
Evelyn." 

"  Do  you,  dear?  Well  Aunty  Evelyn  is  very, 
very  happy  to  be  here." 

"We  were  going  to  have  rice-pudding  for 
dessert  if  you  hadn't  come.  I  don't  like  rice- 
pudding;  do  you,  Aunty  Evelyn?  " 

"Doris— dear!" 

Her  mother's  voice  held  reproof  and  warn- 
ing; but  the  child  with  the  specious  sense  of 
security  inspired  by  the  presence  of  strangers 
displayed  her  dimples  demurely.  "  I  didn't 
know  it  was  naughty  not  to  like  rice-pudding," 
she  said,  in  a  small  distinct  voice. 

Mr.  H'ickey  glanced  thoughtfully  across  the 
table  at  Miss  Tripp,  who  was  smiling  down  at 
the  little  girl  encouragingly.  "  Most  of  us 
are  naughty  when  it  comes  to  hankering  after 
the  unusual  and  the  unattainable,"  he  observed 
didactically.  "  I  eat  my  rice-pudding  con- 
tentedly enough  most  days  of  the  year;  but 
on  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-fifth  I " 

"You  pine  for  pink  ice-cream;  don't  you?" 
smiled  Miss  Tripp ;  "  but  one  might  tire  of 
even  the  pinkest  ice-cream,  if  it  appeared  too 
often.  What  one  really  wants  is — plain 


84         Those  Brewster  Children 

bread.'*  She  cast  a  barely  perceptible  glance 
at  Elizabeth,  the  laces  at  her  throat  quivering 
with  the  ghost  of  a  sigh.  The  next  instant 
she  was  laughing  at  Richard  whose  curly  head 
was  beginning  to  droop  heavily  over  his  food. 

"  Poor  little  fellow,"  she  murmured.  "  Do 
look,  Elizabeth,  he's  almost  gone ! " 

"  Won't  you  carry  him  up-stairs  for  me, 
Sam  ?  "  Elizabeth  begged  her  husband.  "  I 
ought  not  to  have  kept  him  up  for  dinner. 
— You'll  excuse  us  just  an  instant;  won't 
you?" 

It  was  a  pretty  picture;  the  tall,  stalwart 
father  lifting  the  child  rosy  with  sleep,  and  the 
little  mother  hovering  anxiously  near,  like  a 
small  brown  bird.  Mr.  Hickey  observed  it 
solemnly;  Miss  Tripp  smilingly;  then,  for 
some  reason  unknown  to  both,  their  eyes  met. 

"  — Er — let  me  pass  you  the — bread,  Miss 
Tripp,"  said  Mr.  Hickey,  short-sightedly 
choosing  among  the  viands  immediately  within 
his  reach. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hickey,"  said  Evelyn,  and 
again  that  faint,  elusive  sigh  shook  the  delicate 
laces  at  her  throat. 


IX 

As  Miss  Tripp  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  a  careful  toilet  the  next  morning 
she  caught  the  sound  of  a  whispered  dispute 
in  the  hall ;  then  small  knuckles  were  cautiously 
applied  to  the  panel  of  her  chamber  door. 

"  Aunty  Evelyn !  Aunty  Evelyn !  are  you 
waked  up  ?  " 

Miss  Tripp  had  been  brooding  since  day- 
light over  the  accumulated  problems  which  ap- 
peared to  crowd  her  narrow  horizon  like  so 
many  menacing  thunder-caps;  but  she  sum- 
moned a  faint  smile  to  her  lips  as  she  opened 
the  door. 

"  Why,  good-morning,  dears ! "  she  cried 
cheerfully  at  sight  of  the  two  small  figures  in 
their  gay  dressing-gowns  and  scarlet  slippers. 

"  We  want  to  hear  a  story,  Aunty  Evelyn," 
announced  Doris,  prancing  boldly  in,  each  in- 
dividual curl  on  her  small  head  bobbing  like 
coiled  wire.  "  We  like  stories." 

"  Come  here,  pet,  and  let  Aunty  brush  your 
curls." 

84 


86          Those  Brewster  Children 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  my  curls  brushed ;  I  want 
to  hear  a  story  about  a  be-utiful  princess  go- 
ing to  seek  her  fortune." 

Miss  Tripp  suppressed  a  vague  sigh.  "I 
know  a  poor,  forlorn  princess  who  is  obliged 
to  go  out  all  alone  into  the  cold  world  to  seek 
her  fortune,"  she  said.  "And  Fm  very  much 
afraid  she  won't  find  it." 

"  Is  she  young  and  be-utiful?  "  asked  Doris, 
with  wide-eyed  attention.  "  An'  has  she  got 
a  spangled  dress  ?  " 

"Dot  a  spangled  dwess?"  cooed  Richard, 
like  a  cheerful  little  echo. 

"  No ;  she's  forced  to  wear  a  plain  black  dress 
in  her  wanderings,  and  she  isn't  beautiful  at 
all.  She's  not  very  young  either,  and  ugly 
lines  are  beginning  to  creep  about  her  eyes 
and  across  her  forehead ;  and  one  day,  not  long 
ago  she  found — what  do  you  suppose?  " 

"A  bag  of  gold?" 

"  A  bag  o'  dold?  "  echoed  Richard. 

"  No,  dear ;  this  poor,  forlorn  little  princess 
found  three  silver  hairs  growing  among  the 
brown  ones  just  over  her  ear." 

Miss  Tripp's  sweet,  drawling  voice  trembled 
slightly  as  she  went  on  with  her  little  fable. 


Those  Brewster  Children          87 

"  The  princess  felt  so  badly  that  she  shed  bit- 
ter tears  when  she  saw  the  glitter  of  those 
three  silver  hairs,  because  she  knew  that  she 
could  never,  never  catch  up  with  youth  any 
more." 

"  What  youth — the  fairy  prince  ?  "  Doris 
wanted  to  know. 

And  Richard  smiled  seraphically  as  he  trilled, 
"  Oh,  dood !  It  was  'e  pwince !  " 

"  No,  darlings ;  there  isn't  any  prince  at  all 
in  this  story.  There  was  one — once — away 
back  in  the  beginning  of  it ;  but  he — went  away 
— to  a  far  country,  and  he — never  came  back." 

"  Did  the  princess  cry?  " 

"Did  her  cwy?" 

"  Yes ;  she  cried  till  all  the  brightness  went 
out  of  her  pretty  eyes.  Then  she  stopped 
crying  and  laughed  instead,  because — Oh;  be- 
cause crying  didn't  help  a  bit." 

"  You've  been  crying,  Aunty  Evelyn ! "  said 
Doris  suddenly.  "Why-e!  your  eyes  are  all 
teary  now ! " 

"  I've  got  a  cold ;  I'm  afraid,"  prevaricated 
Miss  Tripp. 

"  I  don't  like  that  story,"  objected  Doris. 
"  Unless "  and  her  eyes  brightened,  "  the 


88         Those  Brewster  Children 

prince  came  back.  Let  him  come  back,  Aunty 
Evelyn;  please  let  him;  it'll  spoil  the  story  if 
he  doesn't." 

Miss  Tripp  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  I — wish 
he  might  come  back,"  she  said ;  "  but  I — I'm 
afraid  he  never  will,  dear;  and  the  poor  little 
princess  will  have  to  go  on  alone  till " 

"  Till  what  ?  "  demanded  Doris  indignantly. 
"  I  c'n  tell  a  better  story  'an  that,"  she  added. 

"  Tell  it,  dear." 

"  Well ;  the  princess  went  out  in  her  horrid 
ol'  black  clo'es  an'  travelled  an'  travelled,  an' 
travelled  till  she  was  mos'  tired  out,  an'  every- 
where she  went  she  asked  '  where  is  my  prince  ?  ' 
An'  at  first  all  the  people  said,  *  We  don't 
know  where  any  prince  is.'  But  the  princess 
jus'  made  up  her  mind  she  would  find  him ;  an* 
< — an'  bimeby  she  did — jus'  as  easy!  He  was 
right  there  all  the  time ;  only  he  was  enchanted 
by  an  awful  bad  fairy  so  she  couldn't  see  him, 
an'  so " 

Doris  paused  to  draw  breath,  and  Richard 
gravely  took  up  the  tale,  nodding  the  while 
like  a  gay  little  china  mandarin.  "  He  was 
'chanted  an'  she  was  'chanted,  an'  they  bof  was 
'chanted,  an' " 


Those  Brewster  Children         89 

"  Be  quiet,  Buddy,  an'  let  me  tell,"  inter- 
rupted Doris.  "  She  did  find  him !  Course 
she  found  him,  an* — an'  her  horrid  ol'  clo'es 
was  changed  to  a  lovely  wedding  dress,  an' — 
an'— that's  the  end  of  it !  " 

Miss  Tripp  laughed.  She  felt  unreasonably 
cheered  by  this  optimistic  finale  to  her  sad 
little  story — which  had  no  ending. 

"  That  would  be  the  beginning  of  a  very 
cheerful  story,"  she  said.  "  Now  Aunty  Ev- 
elyn must  get  some  breakfast  and  start  out 
into  the  cold  world." 

"  Oh !  we  want  you  to  stay !  " 

"  I'm  coming  back,  dears ;  yes,  indeed ;  I'll  be 
back  this  very  evening,  and  then  I'll  tell  you 
the  loveliest  story  in  the  world,  all  about  a 
little  goose-girl." 

It  was  a  very  cold  world  indeed  into  which 
Miss  Tripp  fared  forth  that  winter  morning. 
But  Elizabeth's  friendly  protests  were  vain. 

"  I  really  must  go,  dear,"  Evelyn  told  her  with 
a  firmness  quite  foreign  to  her  fashionable  self. 
"  You  don't  know — you  can't  guess  how  nec- 
essary it  is  for  me  to  find  some  way  of  earning 

money.  Mother "  her  voice  shook  a  little 

— "  isn't  at  all  well ;  she  never  was  very  strong* 


90         Those  Brewster  Children 

and  our  losses  have  quite — Why,  Elizabeth, 
you  would  hardly  know  mother;  she's  so 
changed.  She  just  sits  by  the  window,  and — 
looks  out;  I  can't  seem  to  rouse  her  to — to  do 
anything." 

Remembering  the  frail,  artificial  old  lady, 
with  her  elaborate  toilets  and  her  perpetual 
aura  of  rice-powder  and  sachet,  Elizabeth 
thought  this  exceedingly  probable.  "  Was  it 
so  very  bad,  Evelyn  ?  "  she  asked  hesitatingly. 
"  You  know  you  only  told  me " 

"  We  lost  nearly  everything  when  the  Back- 
Bay  Security  Company  failed  last  fall,"  said 
Evelyn  quietly.  "  I — couldn't  seem  to  believe 
it  at  first.  Of  course  we  were  never  rich;  but 
we  had  always  lived  very  comfortably — you 
know  how  pleasant  it  was  in  our  little  apart- 
ment, Elizabeth,  with  our  good  Marie  to  do 
everything  for  us,  and  all  our  friends." 

Miss  Tripp  touched  her  eyelids  delicately 
with  her  little  lace-edged  handkerchief.  "  I — 
mustn't  cry,"  she  said.  "  It  makes  one  look 

so  like  a  fright,  and  I .  Elizabeth,  do  you 

suppose  I  could  get  a  place  to — teach?  I  do 
love  children  so,  and  they  always  seem  to  like 
me." 


Those  Brewster  Children          91 

"  What  would  you  teach  ?  "  Elizabeth  asked, 
anxiously  sympathetic,  yet  knowing  a  little 
more  of  the  ways  of  the  educational  world  than 
did  Miss  Tripp.  "  You  know,  Evelyn, — at  least 
I  am  told — that  nearly  every  teacher  has  to 
be  a  specialist  now.  You  might  study  kinder- 
gartening,"  she  added  more  hopefully. 

Miss  Tripp  shook  her  head.  "  No ;  I  couldn't 
do  that.  It  would  take  too  long,  and  we 
should  have  plenty  of  time  to — starve,  I  fancy, 

before .  But  what  nonsense  I'm  talking!  I 

must  start  out  this  minute ;  I  have  an  appoint- 
ment at  Whitcher's  Teacher's  Agency  this 
morning.  They  told  me  yesterday  that  a  man 
— a  school  principal — was  coming  there  to  hire 
a  primary  teacher.  I'm  sure  I  could  do  that; 
don't  you  think  I  could,  Elizabeth? — Just  to 
teach  the  children  how  to  read  and  write  and 
do  little  sums  on  their  slates.  I  shall  say  I 
can  anyway." 

She  waved  her  hand  to  her  friend  as  she  went 
bravely  away  down  the  snowy  street,  and 
Elizabeth  turned  back  to  her  children,  feeling 
a  new  and  unfamiliar  sense  of  gratitude  for 
the  warm  home  nest,  with  its  three  turbulent 
birdlings. 


92         .Those  Brewster  Children 

It  was  Saturday,  and  the  children  could  not 
be  dispatched  to  kindergarten  as  on  other 
mornings  of  the  week.  It  was  also  baking-day, 
and  bread  and  rolls  were  in  slow  process  of  ris- 
ing to  their  appointed  size  in  the  chilly  kitchen. 
Elizabeth  was  frugally  looking  over  the  con- 
tents of  her  larder  with  a  view  to  a  "  picked- 
up  "  luncheon,  when  she  heard  a  small  yet  dis- 
tinct knock  on  the  back  door. 

She  opened  it  upon  Robbie  Stanford,  dancing 
with  impatience  on  the  snowy  step. 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Brewster,"  he  began 
with  an  ingratiating  smile,  "  I've  come  over 
to  play  with  Carroll  an'  Doris.  I  c'n  stay  two 
hours  'n'  maybe  three,  'nless  my  mother  comes 
from  down-town  before  that." 

"  Oh ;  isn't  your  mother  at  home  ?  "  asked 
Elizabeth,  with  a  dubious  glance  at  the  red- 
cheeked,  black-eyed  young  person,  who  was  al- 
ready edging  smilingly  toward  the  closed  door 
of  the  dining-room.  She  had  entertained  Mas- 
ter Stanford  before  in  the  absence  of  his  par- 
ents and  had  learned  to  dread  the  occasions  of 
his  visits. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  said  Robbie  politely.  "  My 
mother's  gone  to  have  her  teeth  fixed.  The* 


Those  Brewster  Children          93 

was  a  teeny  hole  in  one  of  'em,  an*  the  hole 
ached.  Did  you  ever  have  holes  in  your  teeth, 
Mrs.  Brewster?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  I  suppose  I  have,"  assented 
Elizabeth  doubtfully.  "  Now,  Robbie ;  I  want 
you  to  promise  me  that  you  will  be  a  good 
boy  this  morning,  and  not  get  into  any  mis- 
chief; I'm  going  to  be  very,  very  busy, 
and " 

"  I'll  be  good,"  responded  the  young  person 
cheerfully.  "  I'll  be  gooder  'an  anything. 
Where's  Carroll?  " 

"  He's  in  the  other  room ;  but — wait  a  min- 
ute, dear.  You  remember  the  last  time  you 
played  with  Carroll  you " 

"  Yes,  'm ;  I  'member.  We  made  an  ocean  in 
the  bath-room,  an'  you  said " 

"  Doris  took  a  bad  cold  from  getting  so  wet, 
and  Richard  almost  had  the  croup." 

"  I  won't  do  it  again,"  promised  the  visitor, 
digging  his  toes  rather  shamefacedly  under  a 
loosened  edge  of  the  linoleum.  "  I'll  jus'  look 
at  pictures,  'n' — 'n'  things  like  that." 

"  Very  well ;  I'll  take  you  in  where  the  chil- 
dren are  playing.  Carroll  will  be  glad  to  see 
you;  I'm  sure,"  she  added,  feeling  that  she 


94          Those  Brewster  Children 

had  been  rather  ungracious  to  her  friend's 
child. 

The  three  young  Brewsters  greeted  their 
neighbour  with  a  whoop  of  joy.  Master  Stan- 
ford was  blessed  with  a  pleasantly  inventive 
turn  of  mind,  and  one  could  generally  depend 
upon  a  break  in  the  monotony  of  the  home 
circle  when  he  appeared. 

"What'll  we  do?"  inquired  Doris,  prancing 
gaily  around  the  visitor,  who  gazed  about  him 
at  the  assembled  Brewster  toys  with  a  some- 
what ennuied  expression  on  his  small,  serious 
countenance. 

"  Aw — I  don't  know ;  play  with  dolls,  I  guess. 
I  promised  I'd  be  good." 

i  "We  might  play  Indian,"  suggested  Car- 
roll hopefully.  "  Mother  lets  us  take  the 
couch-cover  for  a  tent." 

The  visitor  considered  this  proposition  in 
Napoleonic  silence.  "  Have  your  d,olls  got 
real  hair?  "  he  inquired  darkly  of  Doris. 

"  Uh-huh ;  every  one  of  'em  's  got  real  hair. 
My  new  doll  'at  I  got  Christmas  's  got  lovely 
long  curls.  I  don't  play  with  her  ev'ry  day, 
'cause  mother's  'fraid  I'll  break  her." 

"  Go  an'  get  her ;  get  all  yer  dolls." 


Those  Brewster  Children          95 

"  Oh — we  don't  want  t'  play  with  dolls,"  ob- 
jected Carroll.  "  Let's  build  a  depot  an*  have 
trains  a-smashin'  int*  each  other." 

"  Nop ;  we'll  play  Indian,"  the  visitor  said 
firmly.  "  I'll  show  you  how." 

Under  his  able  generalship  the  sitting-room 
was  presently  transformed  into  the  semblance 
of  a  rolling  prairie,  with  a  settler's  wagon  in 
the  midst  of  the  landscape  in  which  travelled 
Richard  as  husband  and  father,  driving  a  span 
of  wicker  chairs,  while  Doris,  smothering  a  fine 
family  of  long-haired  dolls,  sat  behind. 

Elizabeth  who  paused  to  glance  in  at  this 
stage  of  the  proceedings  was  gratified  by  a 
sight  of  the  four  happy,  earnest  little  faces, 
and  the  apparent  innocuousness  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

"  We're  havin*  lots  of  fun,  mother ;  we're 
playin'  wagon !  "  Doris  explained.  "  These 
are  all  my  children;  an'  we're  goin*  west  to 
live." 

"  Det-ap ! "  vociferated  Richard,  pulling 
manfully  at  the  red  lines  decorated  with  bells, 
with  which  he  restrained  his  restive  steeds. 

"  Whoa !  "  and  he  applied  the  gad  with  spirit. 
"  Dey's  doin'  fast,  mudzer,"  he  shouted. 


96         Those  Brewster  Children 

"  That's  a  nice  play ! "  chanted  Elizabeth ; 
"  only  be  careful  of  the  whip,  dear."  Then  she 
hurried  up-stairs  intent  upon  restoring  im- 
maculate order  to  the  upper  part  of  her  house 
before  luncheon. 


THE  better  part  of  an  hour  had  passed  be- 
fore she  remembered  the  children  again;  then 
a  sound  of  terrific  tumult  from  below  gave 
wings  to  her  feet. 

The  scene  which  met  her  astonished  eyes  was 
one  of  blood  and  carnage.  The  two  boys, 
their  faces  horribly  streaked  with  scarlet  and 
yellow,  their  hair  stuck  full  of  feathers,  had 
evidently  fallen  upon  the  peaceful  settlers  in 
their  progress  across  the  western  plains,  and 
were  engaged  in  plunder  and  rapine;  Richard, 
bound  hand  and  foot  with  his  scarlet  lines, 
howled  with  abject  terror,  while  Doris,  wild- 
eyed  and  furious,  fought  for  the  protection  of 
her  family  of  dolls. 

"  You  shan't  touch  my  best  doll ;  you  horrid 
boy !  "  she  shrieked.  "  I'll  tell  my — mother ! 
I'll  tell— my " 

"Give  'er  here!     I'm  a  big  Injun   an'  I'm 

goin'  to  scalp  every  one  of  your  children ! " 

97 


98          Those  Brewster  Children 

yelled  Robbie  Stanford.  "  Here  you,  Carroll ! 
what  you  doin'?  There's  another  kid  a-hidin' 
under  the  chair — I  mean  the  wagon!  She'll 
scalp  easy ! " 

"Why,  children!  What  are  you  doing? 
Carroll,  Robert !  Stop  this  instant ! " 

"We're  playing  Indian!"  panted  Carroll, 
pausing  to  eye  his  mother  disgustedly  through 
his  war-paint.  "  Doris  oughtn't  to  have  yelled 
so,  an'  Buddy's  nothin'  but  a  bawl-baby.  We 
didn't  hurt  him  a  single  bit." 

"  Jus'  see  what  they  did  to  my  dolls ! "  wailed 
Doris.  "  Tore  the  hair  off  of  ev'ry  one  of 
»em ! " 

"Why,  boys!  I  don't  see  what  you  were 
thinking  of  to  spoil  Doris'  pretty  dolls ! " 

"  We  was  only  scalpin'  her  children,"  volun- 
teered the  instigator  of  the  crime,  with  a  cheer- 
ful grin.  "  I  c'n  stick  on  the  hair  again,  jus' 
as  easy  as  anythin',  if  you'll  give  me  the 
glue.  I  scalped  our  baby's  doll  an'  my  mother 
she  stuck  the  hair  on  again  with  glue.  'Tain't 
hard  to  stick  it  on ;  an'  we  only  broke  one.  We 
wouldn't  'ave  done  that,  if  Doris " 

"What  is  that  stuff  on  your  faces?"  de- 
manded Elizabeth  sternly,  as  she  collected  the 


Those  Brewster  Children          90 

parti-coloured  scalps  from  among  the  debris  on 
the  floor. 

"  It's  only  war-paint,  mother,"  explained 
Carroll.  "  Indians  always  put  it  on  their 
faces;  don't  you  remember  the  Indians  in  my 
Indian  book?  We  made  it  out  of  jam  an* 
egg.  Celia  gave  it  to  us;  we  got  the  feathers 
out  the  duster." 

Elizabeth  heaved  a  great  sigh.  "  Come,  and 
I'll  wash  your  faces,"  she  said;  "  then  I  think 
perhaps  Robbie  had  better " 

"  No,  ma'am ;"  said  Master  Stanford  firmly ; 
"  it  isn't  two  hours  yet.  I  c'n  stay  till  the 
whistles  blow,  an'  if  you  invite  me  I  guess  I 
c'n  stay  to  lunch." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  invite  you,"  slipped  off 
Elizabeth's  exasperated  tongue.  "  I  want  you 
to  go  straight  home,  as  soon  as  I've  washed 
you  and  made  you  look  respectable." 

The  youngster's  under  lip  trembled.  Two  big 
tears  welled  up  in  his  black  eyes.  "  I — didn't 
— mean  to — be — naughty !  "  he  quavered.  "  I 
don't  care  if  you — whip — me ;  but  I  don't  want 
— t*  go  home.  Annie's — cross.  She  slapped 
— me — twice  this  morning!  She  says  I'm  the 
plague  o*  her  life." 


100       Those  Brewster  Children 

Annie  was  the  Stanford's  cook  and  possessed 
of  unlimited  authority  which  she  frequently 
abused,  Elizabeth  knew.  "  Where  is  Living- 
stone? "  she  asked  in  a  milder  voice,  as  she 
removed  the  traces  of  her  best  raspberry  jam 
from  the  visitor's  round  face. 

"  Mother  took  baby  with  her ;  she's  going  to 
leave  him  at  gran'ma's  house  till  she  comes 
home.  She  said  I  couldn't  go,  'cause  gran'ma 
— she's — kind  of  nervous  when  I'm  there." 

"  Well,  dear ;  you  can  stay  and  have  lunch 
with  the  children;  only " 

"Are  you  goin'  to  whip  me?  I  shan't  cry 
if  you  do." 

"  My  mother  doesn't  whip  anybody,"  said 
Carroll  superbly ;  "  she's  too  kind  an'  good ! " 

"  So's  my  mother  kind  an'  good !  I  double 
dare  you  to  say  she  isn't ! " 

"  Come,  children ;  you  mustn't  get  to  quar- 
relling. Of  course  your  dear  mother  is  kind 
and  good,  Robbie.  And  you  ought  to  try 
to  be  so  kind  and  good  and  obedient  that 
she  won't  ever  feel  that  you  ought  to  be 
whipped." 

Master  Stanford's  black  eyes  opened  very 
wide  at  this  difficult  proposition. 


Those  Brewster  Children        101 

don't  know  'bout  that,"  he  said  diffidently.  "  I 
guess  my  mother  'd  jus'  's  soon  I'd  be  bad  some 
o'  the  time.  She  says  she's  glad  I  ain't  a  milk 
an'  water  child  like  Carroll.  An'  my  papa,  he 
says " 

"  You  may  both  sit  right  down  on  this  sofa," 
interrupted  Elizabeth  hastily,  "  and  look  at 
these  two  books  till  I  call  you  to  luncheon.  If 
you  get  up  once,  Robbie,  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
send  you  home  to  Annie." 

"  The  idea  of  Marian  saying  such  a  thing 
about  my  Carroll,"  she  thought  unforgivingly, 
as  she  set  forth  bananas  and  small  sweet  crack- 
ers for  the  children's  dessert.  "  A  milk  and 
water  child,  indeed ;  but  of  course,  with  a  boy 
like  Robbie  to  deal  with,  she  has  to  say  some- 
thing. I'm  sorry  for  those  two  children  of 
hers." 

Robbie  Stanford  stayed  till  his  mother  came 
after  him  at  four  o'clock,  and  Elizabeth  lay- 
ing aside  all  other  occupations  supervised  her 
small  kindergarten  with  all  the  tried  patience 
and  kindness  of  which  she  was  mistress. 

Mrs.  Stanford  was  voluble  with  apologies  as 
she  invested  her  son  with  his  coat  and  mittens. 
"  I  told  Annie  to  have  Robbie  ask  Carroll  over 


102       Those  Brewster  Children 

for  luncheon,"  she  said,  "  and  I  left  the  play- 
room all  ready  for  them.  I  assure  you,  Eliza- 
beth, I  had  no  notion  of  inflicting  my  child 
upon  you — when  you  have  company,  too;  I'm 
really  ashamed  of  Robbie." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  interrupted  that  young  per- 
son, "  but  Annie  got  mad  jus*  'cause  I  made 
little  round  holes  in  one  o'  her  ol'  pies  with 
my  finger.  I  only  wanted  to  see  the  juice  come 
out.  'N' — 'n  she  slapped  me,  'n*  tol'  me  to 
get  out  o'  her  way,  or  she'd  pack  her  clo'es  an' 
leave.  So  I " 

Mrs.  Stanford's  pretty  young  face  flushed 
with  mortification.  "  I  can  see  that  you  are 
thinking  me  very  careless  to  leave  Robbie  with 
a  bad-tempered  servant,"  she  said,  "  but  An- 
nie is  usually  so  good  with  the  children,  and 
I  had  to  go.  I  had  really  neglected  my  teeth 
till  one  of  them  ached." 

"  It  was  no  trouble,"  dissembled  Elizabeth 
mildly,  "  and  really  I  should  much  pre- 
fer to  have  Robbie  here  than  to  have  Carroll 
at  your  house  when  you  are  away.  I  should 
tremble  for  the  results  to  your  property.  Of 
course  my  Carroll  alone  is  almost  as  innocuous 
as  milk  and  water,  but  with  Robert  to  bring 


Those  Brewster  Children        103 

out  his  stronger  qualities  one  can  never  safely 
predict  what  will  happen." 

Mrs.  Stanford  looked  up  in  sudden  consterna- 
tion, and  meeting  Elizabeth's  smiling  glance 
she  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"Well,"  she  said,  "I'm  glad,  Betty,  if  you 
aren't  actually  worn  out  mothering  my  black- 
eyed  lamb.  Another  time  I'll  cope  with  all 
three  of  yours,  if  you'll  let  me."  Then  she 
stooped  and  kissed  Elizabeth  in  her  usual  half- 
mocking  way.  "  Thank  you,  little  neighbour," 
she  murmured ;  "  you  make  me  ashamed  of  my- 
self, whenever  I  see  you.  You  are  so  much  bet- 
ter than  I." 

When  Evelyn  Tripp  returned  that  afternoon 
in  the  gloom  of  the  gathering  twilight  she 
stood  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  glow  of  Eliza- 
beth's cheerful  fireside,  slowly  drawing  off  her 
gloves.  She  appeared  pallid  and  worn  in  the 
half  light,  and  Elizabeth  caught  herself  won- 
dering if  she  had  lunched. 

"Yes,  dear,"  Miss  Tripp  informed  her  ab- 
sent-mindedly ;  "  I  had  a  cup  of  tea — I  think 
it  was  tea — and  a  roll.  I  wasn't  hungry  after 
my  interview  with  the  South  Popham  school 
principal." 


104        Those  Brewster  Children 

"  Oh,  then  you  saw  him,?  Did  you — Was 
he " 

Evelyn  laughed  a  little  drearily.  "  No,  dear," 
she  sighed,  shaking  her  head ;  "  nothing  came 
of  it.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have  expected 
it.  Professor  Meeker  wanted  someone  with 
experience,  and — and — a  younger  person,  he 
said.  I  didn't  realise  that  I  looked  really  old, 
Betty.  I  thought " 

"  You  don't  look  old,  Evelyn,"  denied  Eliza- 
beth warm-heartedly.  "  What  was  the  man 
thinking  of?  " 

"  Apparently  of  a  red-cheeked,  nursery-maid 
sort  of  a  person  who  had  taught  in  the  public 
schools.  I  saw  him  afterwards  holding  forth 
on  the  needs  of  the  Popham  Institute  to  a 
young  woman  with  a  high  pompadour  and 
wearing  a  red  shirt-waist,  a  string  of  blue 
beads  and  a  large  glittering  watch-chain — the 
kind  with  a  slide.  I  think  she  must  have 
been  what  he  was  looking  for.  Anyway  the 
Whitcher  people  told  me  he  had  engaged 
her." 

Elizabeth  gazed  at  her  friend,  a  sort  of  ach- 
ing sympathy  withholding  her  from  speech. 

"  After  that,"  pursued  Miss  Tripp,  "  I  went 


Those  Brewster  Children        105 

to  another  agency,  and  they  asked  me  if  I 
would  like  to  travel  abroad  with  a  lady  and 
her  two  daughters.  I  thought  I  should  like  it 
very  much  indeed — I  could  engage  Cousin 
Sophia  to  stay  with  mother,  you  know — so  I 
took  the  car  out  to  Chelsea  to  see  a  Mrs.  Pot- 
win-Pilcher,  and  found  what  she  was  looking 
for  was  really  an  experienced  lady's-maid  and 
courier  rolled  into  one,  and  that  she  expected 
'  willing  services  in  exchange  for  expenses.'  I 
told  her  I  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing.  Then 
Mrs.  Potwin-Pilcher  rose  up — she  was  a  big, 
raw-boned  person  glittering  with  diamonds — 
and  informed  me  that  she  had  fifty-nine  ap- 
plications for  the  position — I  was  the  sixtieth, 
it  seems — and  that  she  was  sure  I  would  be  un- 
able to  perform  the  duties  of  the  position.  Af- 
ter that  I  came  directly  home.  Monday  I 

shall " 

Miss  Tripp  paused  apparently  to  remove  her 
veil;  when  she  finished  her  sentence  it  was  in  a 
steady,  matter-of-fact  voice.  "  I  shall  go  to  see 
an  old  friend  of  mother's — a  Mrs.  Baxter 
Crownenshield — I  think  you've  heard  me  speak 
of  her,  Elizabeth.  She  and  mother  were  very 
intimate  once  upon  a  time,  and  Mr.  Crownen- 


106        Those  Brewster  Children 

shield  owed  his  success  in  business  to  my  father. 
I'm  going  to — ask  her  advice.  Now  I  think 
I'll  go  up-stairs  and  take  off  these  damp  skirts, 
and  after  that  I'll  come  down  and  help  you 

mend  stockings,  or  anything .  Only  let 

me  do  something,  Elizabeth !  " 

There  was  almost  a  wail  in  the  tired  voice, 
and  Elizabeth,  wiser  than  she  knew,  pulled 
out  her  mending-basket  with  a  smile.  "  I'm 
almost  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  need  some 
help  badly,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  you  won't  be 
horrified  at  the  condition  of  Carroll's  stock- 
ings." 

Miss  Tripp  was  quite  her  charming  self 
again  when  she  reappeared  clad  in  a  trailing 
gown  of  rosy  lavender.  She  told  the  children 
the  lively  tale  of  the  goose-girl,  which  she  had 
promised  them  in  the  morning,  choosing  the 
while  the  stockings  with  the  most  discouraging 
holes  out  of  Elizabeth's  basket  and  protesting 
that  she  loved — yes,  positively  adored — darn- 
ing stockings.  But  she  finished  her  self-im- 
posed task  at  an  early  hour,  and  after  playing 
two  or  three  tuneful  little  chansonettes  on 
Elizabeth's  hard-worked  and  rather  shabby 
piano,  excused  herself. 


Those  Brewster  Children        107 

"I  must  write  to  mother,"  she  said  smil- 
ingly. "  She  quite  depends  on  me  for  a  bright 
chatty  letter  every  day,  and  I've  so  much  to 
tell  her  of  to-day's  amusing  adventures.  Really, 
do  you  know  that  Potwin-Pilcher  person  ought 
to  go  into  a  novel.  She  was  positively 
unique ! " 

Elizabeth  was  silent  for  some  moments  after 
the  sound  of  Evelyn's  light  foot  had  passed 
from  the  stair.  Then  she  turned  a  brooding 
face  upon  her  husband.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for 
poor  Evelyn,"  she  said. 

Sam  Brewster  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
"  So  you  said  before  she  arrived,"  he  observed. 
"  I  don't  see  anything  about  the  fair  Evelyn 
to  call  forth  expressions  of  pity.  She  looks 
remarkably  prosperous  to  me." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  don't  see  everything,  Sam. 
That  gown  is  one  she  has  had  for  years,  and 
it  has  been  cleaned  and  made  over  and  over 
again." 

"Well;  so  have  most  of  yours,  my  dear, 
and  you  don't  ask  for  sympathy  on  that  ac- 
count." 

"  Sam,  dear,  they  haven't  any  money.  Can't 
you  understand?  They  lost  everything  when 


108       Those  Brewster  Children 

the  Back-Bay  Security  Company  failed.  Eve- 
lyn doesn't  know  what  to  do.  There  is  her 
mother  to  take  care  of  and  you  know  how  help- 
less she  is.  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  really  did 
anything  in  her  whole  life." 

"  It's  a  problem ;  I'll  admit,"  agreed  her 
husband,  scowling  over  his  unread  paper; 
"  but  I  don't  see  what  we  are  going  to  do 
about  it." 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,  Sam;  we  really 
can't  do  anything,  and  I'm  afraid  other  people 
won't.  I  had  thought — if  nothing  else  turned 
up — that  perhaps  Mrs.  Tripp  could  be  induced 
to  go  into  a  home.  One  of  those  nice,  refined 
places  where  one  has  to  pay  to  be  admitted, 
and  then  Evelyn — might " 

She  paused  and  looked  anxiously  at  her 
husband.  "We  might  let  her  stay  here,  Sam; 
and " 

He  shook  his  head.  "You're  the  most  self- 
sacrificing  of  darlings  when  it  comes  to  help- 
ing your  friends,"  he  said;  "but  I  couldn't 
stand  for  that,  Betty.  Two  weeks  is  about 
my  limit,  I'm  afraid,  when  it  comes  to  enter- 
taining angels  unawares.  I'm  willing  to  ad- 
mit the  unique  character  of  Miss  Tripp,  and 


Those  Brewster  Children        109 

to  vote  her  a  most  agreeable  guest,  and  all 

that.     But " 

Elizabeth  gazed  at  her  husband  understand- 
ingly.  "  I  know,  Sam,"  she  said,  "  and  I  think 
so  too.  But " 


XI 

"  MOTHER,  de-ar,  can  we  go  out  to  play  in  the 
back  yard?  I  c'n  put  on  my  overshoes  an'  leg- 
gins,  an'  I  c'n  help  Doris  too,  if  you're  busy." 
Elizabeth  looked  up  from  her  task  of  cut- 
ting out  rompers  for  her  baby  with  a  preoc- 
cupied sigh.  "  You  have  a  little  cold  now, 
Carroll,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "  and  if  you 

should  get  wet  in  the  snow " 

"  We  won't  get  wet,  mother.  I  pr-romise ! " 
"  Very  well,  dear ;  now  remember !  " 
It  was  cold  and  clear  and  there  seemed  very 
little  danger  of  dampness  as  the  two  children 
ran  out  with  a  whoop  of  joy  into  the  side 
yard  where  the  snow-laden  evergreens  partially 
screened  the  Stanford's  house  from  view.  Rob- 
bie Stanford's  round,  solemn  face  was  staring 
at  them  wistfully  from  a  second-story  window 
as  they  dashed  ecstatically  into  a  snow  bank, 
to  emerge  white  with  the  sparkling  drift. 

"Hello,   Rob;   come   on    out!"    called    Car- 
roll. 

no 


Those  Brewster  Children        111 

"  I  can't,"  replied  Master  Stanford,  raising 
the  window  cautiously. 

"Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothin'  much ;  but  I  guess  I'd  better 
stay  up  here  till  mother  comes  home." 

"Who  said  so?" 

"  That  horrid  ol'  Annie.  I  was  down  in  the 
kitchen  an*  I  fired  only  one  clothespin  at  her, 
jus'  for  fun,  an'  it  hit  her  in  the  eye;  she  got 
mad  an'  chased  me  up  here  an'  locked  the 
door." 

"  Where's  your  mother?  " 

"  She's  gone  down  town.  She  said  she'd 
bring  me  some  candy  if  I  was  good.  Bu'  'f  I 
ain't  good  she'll  take  the  paddle  to  me.  Say, 
Carroll!" 

"What?" 

"  Why  don't  you  an*  Doris  make  a  skatin' 
rink?" 

"A— what?" 

"A  skatin'  rink.  It's  great.  I  know  how; 
I  saw  a  boy  makin'  one  in  his  back  yard.  It's 
awful  easy.  You  just  run  the  hose " 

Master  Stanford  paused  in  the  course  of  his 
exposition  to  cast  a  cautious  glance  behind  him. 
"  I  guess  I'm  takin'  cold  all  right,"  he  went  on 


112        Those  Brewster  Children 

feelingly.  "  I  hope  I  am.  Then  maybe  I'll 
have  the  croup  an'  be  awful  sick.  I  guess 
they'd  all  be  sorry,  then.  Say,  Carroll,  do  you 
see  Annie  anywheres  ?  " 

Carroll  reconnoitred  cautiously.  "  She's 
hangin'  up  clo'es  in  the  back  yard,"  he  in- 
formed the  young  person  aloft. 

"  If  I  c'd  get  out  of  here,  I'd  show  you  how 
to  make  that  skatin'  rink.  We  c'd  make  it 
easy,  an'  have  it  ready  to  skate  on  b'  to-mor- 
row." 

"We  haven't  any  skates,"  objected  Doris. 
"  B'sides,"  with  a  toss  of  her  scarlet  hood,  "  I 
don't  believe  you  know  how  to  make  a  skatin' 
rink." 

"  I  don't  know  how?  Well,  I  just  bet  I  do !  " 
exclaimed  the  prisoner  dangling  his  small  per- 
son far  over  the  window-sill,  while  Doris 
screamed  an  excited  protest.  "Pooh!  I  ain't 
afraid  of  fallin'  out — ain't  afraid  of  nothin'; 
I'll  bet  I  c'd  jump  out  this  window.  I  guess 
I'd  have  to  if  the  house  took  on  fire.  Say,  if 
this  house  should  ketch  on  fire,  Carroll,  your 
house  would  burn  up  too.  I've  got  some 
matches  in  my  pocket,"  he  added  darkly ;  "  if  I 
should  take  a  notion  I  c'd  burn  up  everythin' 


Those  Brewster  Children        113 

on  this  block,  an'  maybe  the  whole  town.     I'll 
bet  I  c'd  do  it." 

"How  do  you  make  a  skatin'  rink?"  in- 
quired Carroll,  with  an  anxious  glance  at  his 
own  cosy  home,  which  suddenly  appeared  very 
dear  to  him  in  view  of  a  general  conflagration. 

Master  Stanford  reflected  frowningly.  "  Is 
our  cellar  window  open  ?  " 

"Nope;  it's  shut." 

"  Well,  first  you'll  have  to  dig  out  a  big 
square  place,  an'  pile  snow  all  round  the  edge. 
I'll  get  out  o'  here  somehow  b'  the  time  you 
get  that  done;  then  we'll  run  it  full  of  water. 
'N  after  that  it'll  freeze." 

"Where  c'd  we  get  the  water?"  inquired 
Doris,  with  an  unbelieving!  sniff*  "  Mother; 
wouldn't  let  us  get  it  in  the  kitchen." 

"  Out  of  our  hose  pipe,"  said  Master  Stan- 
ford grandly.  The  Brewsters  owned  no  hose, 
and  this  fact  was  a  perpetual  source  of  griev- 
ance in  summer  time.  "  I'll  run  her  right  un- 
der the  hedge  into  your  yard,"  continued  the 
proprietor  of  the  hose  generously,  "  an'  let  her 
swizzle ! " 

"  Oh — my !  "  gasped  the  small  Brewsters  in 
excited  chorus. 


114       Those  Brewster  Children 

"Well;  are  you  goin*  to  do  it?" 

Carroll  shook  his  head.  "We  promised 
mother  we  wouldn't  get  wet,"  he  observed 
with  an  air  of  superior  virtue.  "  'N  we  always 
mind  our  mother,  don't  we,  Doris? — at  least  I 
do.  Doris  doesn't  always.  But  she's  a  girl." 

Master  Stanford  cackled  with  derision.  "  Aw 
— you're  a  terrible  good  boy,  aren't  you  ? " 
he  crowed.  "My  father  says  you're  a  reg'lar 
prig.  He  says  he'd  larrup  me,  if  I  was  always 
braggin'  'bout  bein'  so  good  the  way  you  do. 
He  says  I  haven't  anythin'  to  brag  of.  Course 
if  you're  'fraid  of  your  mother " 

Doris  pirouetted  off  across  the  yard  with  a 
flirt  of  her  short  skirts.  "We  aren't  afraid, 
smarty ! "  she  cried,  her  pink  chin  high  in  air. 
"  An'  we  aren't  any  gooder  an*  you  are,  Rob- 
bie Stanford — at  least  I'm  not ;  so  there !  Come 
on,  Carroll;  let's  make  a  skatin'  rink." 

Hard  labour  with  two  small  snow-shovels 
produced  the  semblance  of  a  square  enclosure 
bounded  by  uneven  ridges  of  soft  snow.  Mrs. 
Brewster  glancing  out  of  the  window  at  her 
darlings  was  pleased  to  observe  their  red  cheeks 
and  the  joyous  enthusiasm  with  which  they 
were  pursuing  their  self-imposed  task. 


Those  Brewster  Children        115 

"  Dear  little  souls ! "  she  thought,  "  how  little 
it  takes  to  keep  them  happy."  Then  she  be- 
came absorbingly  busy  at  her  machine  in  the 
task  of  double-stitching  the  seams  of  the  baby's 
rompers. 

In  the  meanwhile  young  Robert  Stanford 
had  been  released  from  durance  vile  by  the 
kind-hearted  Annie,  whose  warm  Irish  heart 
had  reproached  her  for  her  fit  of  bad  temper. 

"Sure  an'  yez  didn't  mean  to  hit  me  eye; 
did  yez,  now?  "  she  inquired,  as  she  poked  her 
broad  red  face  into  the  room. 

"  Naw ;  course  I  didn't,"  the  incarcerated 
one  ingratiatingly  assured  her.  "  Say,  Annie, 
c'n  I  have  four  cookies?  " 

"  Oh,  go  'way  wid  yez ;  four's  too  many  en- 
tirely ;  I'll  give  ye  wan  wid  a  clip  over  yer  ear." 

"  No ;  honest,  I  ain't  goin'  to  eat  'em  all.  I 
want  one  for  Carroll  an'  Doris  an'  two  for 
me." 

"  An'  it's  the  generous  young  one  he  is  en- 
tirely," laughed  Annie.  "  Come  on  down  an' 
I'll  put  yer  coat  on,  and  mind  yez  don't  get 
into  no  more  mischief  or  I'll  be  afther  tellin' 
yer  mother;  thin  you'll  get  a  taste  of  the  pad- 
dle." 


116       Those  Brewster  Children 

"I'll  give  you  a  whole  lot  of  my  candy,  An- 
nie," said  the  boy  earnestly,  "  if  you'll  tell 
mother  I  was  awful  good.  Will  you?" 

"  '  Awful '  it  was,  all  right,"  giggled  Annie ; 
"  but  if  I  was  to  say  you  was  good  I'd  have  to 
burn  in  purgatory  for  me  sins.  I'll  say  noth- 

" Where's  purgatory,  Annie?"  inquired  the 
young  person  after  a  thoughtful  silence. 

"  It's  a  warrum  place  entirely  where  you'll 
find  yourself  some  day,  I'm  thinkin',  if  yez  med- 
dle too  much  in  my  kitchen,"  said  Annie  darkly. 
"  Here's  your  cookies ;  now  g'wan  wid  yez 
an'  don't  ye  be  afther  botherin'  me  no 
more." 

It  was  a  matter  which  required  concerted  ef- 
fort to  uncoil  the  heavy  hose,  attach  it  to  the 
water  pipe  and  lift  the  nozzle  to  the  level  of 
the  window;  but  it  was  accomplished  at  last 
through  the  united  efforts  of  the  two  boys  ably 
assisted  by  Doris,  who  was  all  excitement  at 
the  prospect  of  sliding  on  a  real  ice  pond  in 
her  own  yard. 

"  I  guess  our  daddy'll  be  s'prised  when  he 
sees  us  goin'  around  like  lightnin'  on  reg'lar 
ice,"  she  said.  "  He's  got  skates,  our  daddy 


Those  Brewster  Children        117 

has,  an'  he  c'n  skate  like  everythin',  our  daddy 
can." 

"Pooh!  that's  nothin',"  retorted  Master 
Stanford ;  "  my  father  c'n  beat  your  father  all 
holler.  He's  a  whole  lot  taller  'n  your  father, 
an'  our  house  is  higher  'n  yours,  too." 

"It's  p'liter  not  to  brag,"  said  Doris,  ig- 
noring her  own  deflections  from  civility.  "  Oh, 
my,  look  at  the  water  spurting  out  of  that 
teeny,  weeny  hole!  It's  just  like  a  fountain." 

The  two  boys  were  laboriously  dragging  the 
heavy  hose  across  the  yard,  and  in  the  process 
other  holes  appeared  through  which  the  water 
hissed  and  gurgled  with  increasing  force. 

"  I  don't  care,"  the  proprietor  of  the  hose 
assured  them  loftily.  "  It's  an'  ol'  thing  any- 
way. We're  goin'  to  have  a  great  long  new 
one  nex'  summer;  then  maybe  we'll  give  you 
this  one.  My  father's  so  rich  he  don't  care. 
Now  I'll  poke  the  nozzle  through  the  hedge  an* 
let  her  swizzle.  Get  out  o'  the  way,  Doris;  I 
don't  care  if  I  do  get  wet." 

Ten  mintues  later  Mrs.  Stanford,  rosy  and 
cheerful,  after  her  brisk  walk  in  the  winter  sun- 
shine, appeared  on  the  scene.  "  What  are  you 
doing,  kiddies  ?  "  she  inquired  pleasantly ;  then 


118        Those  Brewster  Children 

in  a  more  doubtful  tone.  "  What  are  you  do- 
ing? Why,  Robbie!" 

"  We're  jus5  makin*  a  skatin'  rink,  and  the 
ol'  hose  leaks  like  thunder,"  explained  her  son, 
employing  a  simile  he  had  heard  his  father  use 
the  day  before,  and  which  he  had  considered 
particularly  manly  and  amirable. 

"  Robert !  you  are  soaked  to  the  skin — and 
so  is  Carroll.  Go  right  into  the  house.  What 
do  you  mean  by  being  so  naughty  ?  " 

"You  didn't  say  I  couldn't  take  the  hose," 
sulked  the  boy,  surveying  his  parent  from  un- 
der lowering  brows. 

"  Go  in  the  house,  sir ;  I'll  attend  to  you 
presently,"  said  his  mother  sternly. 

"Oh,  please;  I'll  be  good!  I  didn't — mean 
— to,"  whined  the  child.  "  Carroll  an'  Doris, 
they  wanted  a  skatin'  rink,  an'  I " 

Mrs.  Stanford  stooped  to  turn  off  the  water. 
"  Go  home  at  once,"  she  said  to  her  neighbour's 
children.  "  And  you,  Robert,  go  up  to  the 
bathroom  and  take  off  your  wet  clothing." 
Her  pretty  young  face  was  flushed  with  anger. 
"  I  never  saw  such  dreadful  children ! "  she 
murmured  wrathfully. 

"  My,   but   she's  mad ! "   wHspered   Carroll, 


Those  Brewster  Children        119 

looking  after  the  slim,  erect  figure,  "  it  wasn't 
our  fault  their  ol'  hose  leaked." 

"  I  guess  our  mother'll  be  some  mad,  too," 
said  Doris  doubtfully ;  "  that  water  spurted  all 
over  my  leggins ;  an'  now  I  guess  it's  freezing." 

The  two  walked  slowly  across  the  yard, 
ploughing  through  the  rapidly  congealing 
slush,  which  was  the  disappointing  outcome  of 
two  hours  of  hard  work. 

"I  don't  like  Robbie  Stanford  one  bit,"  said 
Doris  disgustedly.  "  He's  always  getting  us 
into  mischief." 

"  I  said  we  ought  not  to  get  wet,"  Carroll 
reminded  her  eagerly.  "  Don't  you  remember 
I  did?  An'  you  said " 

"  I  don't  like  you  either,"  pursued  the  little 
girl  stonily.  "  I  don't  b'lieve  I  like  boys  a'tall; 
so  there ! " 

"  I'm  all  wet,"  she  announced  to  her  mother, 
"  an'  Carroll's  wetter  'an  I  am ;  an' — we — 
we're — both — c-cold ! " 

It  was  characteristic  of  Elizabeth  that  she 
thoroughly  dried  and  warmed  the  children 
before  asking  any  questions.  Then  despite 
their  dismayed  protests  she  put  them  both  to 
bed.  "  You  disobeyed  me,"  she  told  them, 


120        Those  Brewster  Children 

"  and  now  you'll  have  to  stay  in  your  beds  till 
to-morrow  morning.  I'll  explain  to  your 
father.  Of  course  he'll  be  disappointed  not  to 
see  you  at  dinner;  but  I  can't  help  that." 

A  period  of  depressing  silence  followed  dur- 
ing which  both  children  caught  the  distant 
sounds  of  passionate  and  prolonged  crying 
from  the  neighbouring  house. 

"  It's  Robbie,"  said  Carroll  in  an  awed 
whisper ;  "  his  mother's  whipping  him  with  that 
butter-paddle  o'  hers.  She  does  that  when  he's 
awful  bad." 

"  I'd  bite  her ! "  murmured  Doris  between 
her  clenched  teeth.  "  I'd — I'd — scratch  her !  " 
She  burst  into  excited  tears.  "  I'd  just — hate 
my  mother  if  she — if  she  hurt  me  like  that ! " 

"  Pooh !  Rob  don't  care  so  very  much," 
Carroll  assured  her;  "he  says  he  hollers  jus' 
as  loud  as  he  can  so  his  mother'll  stop  quicker. 
I  s'pose,"  he  continued  after  a  thoughtful 
pause,  "  Robbie  '11  be  up  to  dinner  jus'  the 
same,  an*  we'll  be  here  eatin*  bread  and  milk." 


XII 

ELIZABETH'S  promised  explanation  to  the 
father  of  the  culprits  above  stairs  led  to  a 
spirited  discussion  between  the  husband  and 
wife,  after  Miss  Tripp  had  retired  to  her  apart- 
ment. 

"Poor  little  kids,"  Sam  Brewster  said 
whimsically.  "  I  believe  I'm  glad  I'm  not  your 
child,  Betty, — I  mean,  of  course,  that  I'm  glad 
I'm  your  husband,"  he  amended  quickly,  as  her 
unsmiling  eyes  reproached  him.  "  Don't  you 
think  you  were  a  little  hard  on  them,  though?  " 

"  Hard  on  them  ?  "  she  echoed  indignantly. 
"You're  much  more  severe  with  the  children 
than  I  am,  Sam, — when  you're  at  home.  You 
know  you  are." 

He  smoked  thoughtfully  for  a  minute  or 
two  before  replying.  "  Look  here,  Betty,"  he 
said  at  last,  "you're  right  in  a  way.  I'm  not 
half  so  patient  as  you  are,  I'll  admit.  But  I 
wonder  if  we  don't  all  miss  the  mark  when  it 
comes  to  disciplining  children? — Wait — just  a 
121 


122        Those  Brewster  Children 

minute  before  you  answer.  I've  been  thinking 
a  whole  lot  about  this  business  of  home  rule 
since  we — er — discussed  it  the  other  day,  and 
I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  thing 
to  do  is  to  let  universal  law  take  its  course 
with  them.  They  are  human  beings,  my  dear, 
and  they've  got  to  come  up  against  the  law  in 
its  broader  sense  sopner  or  later.  Let  'em  be- 
gin right  now." 

She  was  eyeing  him  pityingly.  "  And  by  that 
you  mean ?" 

"I  mean,"  he  went  on,  warming  to  his  sub- 
ject, "  that  you've  got  to  teach  a  child  what  it 
means  to  reap  what  he  sows.  If  Richard  wants 
to  put  his  finger  on  the  stove  and  investigate 
the  phenomenon  of  calorics,  let  him.  He  won't 
do  it  twice." 

"And  if  he  wants  to  paddle  in  the  aquarium 
of  a  cold  winter  day,  you'd " 

"  Let  him — of  course,"  said  Sam  stoutly. 
'"'He'd  feel  uncomfortably  damp  and  chilly 
after  a  while." 

"  Yes ;  and  have  the  croup  or  pneumonia  that 
same  night." 

"  You're  hopelessly  old-fashioned,  Betty," 
he  laughed;  "you  shouldn't  introduce  the 


Those  Brewster  Children        123 

croup  or  pneumonia  idea  into  the  infant  con- 
sciousness. But  seriously,  my  dear,  I  believe 
I'm  right.  If  you  don't  teach  the  children  to 
recognise  the  relation  between  cause  and  effect 
now — so  that  it  becomes  second  nature  to  them, 
how  are  they  going  to  understand  the  sub- 
ject when  they're  put  up  against  it  later? 
You'll  find  the  mother  bird  and  the  mother 
bear,  and,  in  fact,  all  the  animal  creation  care- 
fully instilling  the  idea  of  cause  and  effect  into 
their  offspring  from  the  very  beginning; 
while  human  parents  are  as  constantly  pro- 
tecting their  children  from  the  effects  of  the 
causes  which  the  children  ignorantly  set  in  mo- 
tion. In  other  words  we  persist  in  undoing  the 
work  of  old  '  Mother  Be-done-by-as-you-did.' 
It's  a  blunder,  in  my  opinion.  But  of  course, 
I'm  a  mere  man  and  my  ideas  are  not  entitled 
to  much  consideration." 

Elizabeth  gazed  at  her  husband  with  open 
admiration.  "  Of  course  they  are  entitled  to 
consideration,"  she  said  decidedly.  "  And  I  be- 
lieve what  you  have  said — with  reservations. 
Suppose  Baby  Dick,  for  example,  should  lean 
out  of  the  window  too  far — a  second-story  win- 
dow, I  mean — and  I  should  see  him  doing  it 


124»      ^Those  Brewster  Children 

and  feel  pretty  certain  he  was  going  to  pitch 
out  head  first  and  cripple  himself  for  life.  Do 
you  think  I  ought  to  stand  still  and  let  the 
law  of  gravitation  teach  him  not  to  do  it  a 
second  time?  " 

Sam  Brewster  laid  down  his  pipe  and  gazed 
steadfastly  at  his  wife.  She  was  looking  ex- 
tremely young  and  bewitchingly  pretty  as  she 
leaned  toward  him,  her  cheeks  pink,  her  brown 
eyes  glowing  with  earnestness  in  which  he 
thought  he  detected  a  spark  of  her  old  girlish 
mischief. 

"  *  And  still  the  wonder  grew,' "  he  quoted 
solemnly,  "  *  that  one  small  head  could  carry 
all  she  knew ! '  " 

"  Please  answer  me,  Sam,"  she  insisted. 

"Well,  of  course  you've  got  me.  You'd  have 
to  haul  in  the  young  person  by  the  heels, 
and " 

"And  what,  exactly,  if  you  please?" 

"  You  might  illustrate — with  some  fragile, 
concrete  object,  like  an  egg — as  to  what 
would  happen  if  he  fell  out,"  said  Sam,  with 
exceeding  mildness,  "  and " 

"In  other  words,"  she  interrupted  him 
triumphantly,  "  I  ought  to  interfere  some  of 


Those  Brewster  Children       125 

the  time  between  cause  and  effect.  The  ques- 
tion being  when  to  interfere  and  when  not  to." 

"  Exactly ! "  he  said,  planting  an  irrelevant 
kiss  on  the  pink  cheek  nearest  him.  "  And 
that,  my  dear  Betty,  is  your  job — and,  of 
course,  mine,  when  I'm  here.  But  I  still  hold 
that  the  natural  penalty  is  best — when  it's 
convincingly  painful  yet  entirely  innocuous." 

"  What  is  the  natural  penalty  for  eating 
cookies  out  of  the  box  when  you've  been  for- 
bidden to  do  it?  "  she  wanted  to  know. 

He  chuckled  as  certain  memories  of  his  boy- 
hood came  back  to  him.  "  My  word !  "  he  said, 
"  I  wish  I  could  ever  taste  anything  half  as 
good  as  the  cookies  out  of  Aunt  Julia  Brew- 
ster's  crock — it  was  a  cooky-crock  in  those 
days.  Of  course  I  was  forbidden  to  go  to  it 
without  permission,  and  also  of  course  I  did 
it." 

"What  happened?"  she  demanded,  the  mis- 
chief growing  bolder  in  her  eyes. 

He  reflected.  "  Aunt  Julia  wouldn't  let  me 
have  any  at  table  on  several  occasions ;  but  I — 
er — regret  to  say  that  I  was  not  duly  im- 
pressed by  the  punishment.  A  cooky — one 
cooky — decorously  taken  from  a  china  plate 


126        Those  Brewster  Children 

at  the  conclusion  of  a  meal  did  not,  in  my 
youthful  opinion,  court  comparison  with  six — 
eight — ten  cookies,  moist  and  spicy  from  their 
seclusion  and  eaten  with  an  uncloyed  appe- 
tite. Let's — er — change  the  subject  for  the 
moment,  my  dear.  Of  course  I'm  right,  but  I 
appear  to  be  hopelessly  treed.  Tell  me  how 
our  friend  Miss  Tripp  is  getting  on.  She  ap- 
peared somewhat  depressed  at  dinner-time,  and 
I  didn't  like  to  ask  for  information  for  fear 
there  was  nothing  doing." 

Elizabeth  sighed  sympathetically.  "Evelyn 
had  a  dreadfully  disappointing  day,"  she  told 
him.  "  But  " — her  eyes  dancing  again — "  she 
met  Mr.  Hickey  down  town,  and  he  actually 
invited  her  to  lunch  with  him." 

Sam  whistled  softly.  "  Hickey  is  progress- 
ing," he  said  approvingly.  "  Did  he  take  her 
to  the  business  men's  lunchroom?  Hickey  has 
conscientious  scruples  against  going  anywhere 
else.  I  asked  him  into  Colby's  one  day  and  he 
declined  on  the  ground  of  his  duty  as  a  con- 
stant patron  of  the  B.  M.  L.  He  said  his 
table  was  reserved  for  him  there  by  the  season, 
and " 

"How  absurd!"  laughed  Elizabeth.     "But, 


Those  Brewster  Children        127 

I  was  going  to  tell  you;  Evelyn  remembered 

another  engagement,  and  so "  she  stopped 

short,  her  eyes  growing  luminous.  "  Sam," 
she  said  suddenly,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  think 
of  Evelyn;  she  really  didn't  have  any  lunch  at 
all;  she  said  so  when  she  came.  I  made  her  a 
cup  of  tea;  she  looked  so  worn  and  tired.  I 
wonder  if  Mr.  Hickey  could  have  said  any- 
thing, or What  do  you  think,  Sam  ?  " 

Sam  yawned  behind  his  paper.  "  I'm  really 
too  sleepy  to  give  to  the  question  the  profound 
attention  which  it  merits ;  but  to-morrow  when 
my  intellect  is  fresh  and  keen,  I'll  endeavour 
to " 

"You  mean  you  don't  care." 

"  Suppose  I  did  care,  my  very  dear  Betty ; 
suppose  my  whole  career  depended  upon  what 
Hickey  said — or  didn't  say;  what  could  I  do 
about  it?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Sam,"  said  his 
Elizabeth  meekly.  But  her  eyes  were  still  full 
of  speculative  curiosity  as  she  went  up-stairs- 


XIII 

THE  facts  in  the  case,  if  known  to  Elizabeth, 
might  have  served  to  throw  a  clearer  light 
upon  Miss  Tripp's  somewhat  unsatisfactory  ac- 
count of  her  day  in  the  city.  In  the  first 
place,  the  weather  which  had  dawned  bright 
and  sunny  had  suddenly  turned  nasty,  with  a 
keen  wind  driving  large,  moist  snowflakes  into 
the  faces  of  pedestrians.  Evelyn  had  found 
herself  without  an  umbrella  and  wearing  her 
best  hat  and  gown  walking  the  long  block 
which  intervened  between  her  destination  and 
the  car  from  which  she  had  alighted. 

Mrs.  Baxter  Crownenshield  was  known  to 
the  wide  circle  of  her  acquaintances  as  a  large, 
funereal  person,  invariably  clothed  in  black, 
and  as  perpetually  exuding  a  copious  and  tur- 
gid sympathy  upon  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  her,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a  cut- 
tle-fish. She  lived  in  a  mansion,  large  and  dull 
like  herself,  on  Beacon  Street,  where  she  occu- 
pied herself  exclusively  with  those  dubious  ac- 
128 


Those  Brewster  Children        129 

tlvities  euphemistically  called  "  charitable 
work." 

When  Miss  Evelyn  Tripp  was  shown  into 
Mrs.  Crownenshield's  chilly  reception-room  that 
morning  in  February,  she  shivered  a  little  in 
her  damp  clothes  as  she  sat  down  on  a  slippery 
chair  and  endeavoured  vaguely  to  forecast  the 
coming  interview.  Her  mother  had  suggested 
Mrs.  Crownenshield  as  a  sort  of  dernier  resort, 
with  a  fretful  reminiscence  of  the  days  when 
the  Baxter  Crownenshields  were  poor  and  lived 
in  a  third-story  back  room  of  a  fifth-rate 
boarding-house. 

"  I  used  to  give  Jane  Crownenshield  my 
gowns  after  I  had  worn  them  a  season,"  Mrs. 
Tripp  said  querulously ;  "  and  glad  enough  she 
was  to  get  them.  As  for  her  husband,  he  was 
not  much  of  a  man.  Your  father  used  to  say 
Crownenshield  couldn't  be  trusted  to  earn  his 
salt  at  honest  work  in  a  counting-room;  but 
when  the  war  broke  out  he  borrowed  five  hun- 
dred dollars  of  your  father,  and  bought  and 
sold  army  stores.  After  that  he  grew  rich 
somehow,  and  we  grew  poor.  But  Jane  Crown- 
enshield ought  to  remember  that  she  owes  ev- 
erything she  has  to-day  to  your  father." 


130       Those  Brewster  Children 

Miss  Tripp  perched  uncomfortably  on  the 
unyielding  surface  of  the  inhospitable  hair- 
cloth chair  she  had  chosen,  gazed  attentively 
at  the  portrait  of  the  late  lamented  Crownen- 
shield  which  hung  over  the  mantle-piece,  and 
at  the  bronze  representation  of  the  same  large 
and  self-satisfied  countenance  smirking  at  her 
from  a  shadowy  corner,  while  ,she  repeated 
nervously  the  opening  words  with  which  she 
hoped  to  engage  his  widow's  friendly  interest. 
It  seemed  an  interminable  period  before  she 
heard  the  slow  and  ponderous  footfall  which 
presaged  the  majestic  approach  of  Mrs. 
Crownenshield ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  al- 
most exactly  half  an  hour  by  the  dismal-voiced 
black  marble  clock  surmounted  by  an  urn. 

Miss  Tripp  arose  upon  the  entrance  of  the 
large  lady  in  black  and  held  out  her  hand  with 
a  feeble  effort  after  the  sprightly  ease  of  her 
old  society  manner.  "Good  morning,  Mrs. 
Crownenshield,"  she  began,  in  a  voice  which 
in  spite  of  herself  sounded  weak  and  timid  in 
the  gloomy,  high-ceiled  room.  "I  do  hope  I 
haven't  interrupted  any  important  labour — I 
know  you  are  always  so  much  occupied  with — 
charities,  and " 


Those  Brewster  Children        131 

Mrs.  Crownenshield  stared  meditatively  at 
Miss  Tripp's  small,  slight  figure,  her  gaze  ap- 
pearing to  concern  itself  particularly  with  her 
head-gear  from  which  drooped  two  large  dis- 
pirited plumes. 

"  Tripp — Tripp  ?  I  don't  place  you,"  she 
said  at  last, — "  unless  you  are  Mary  Tripp's 
daughter.  She  had  a  daughter,  I  believe." 
The  Crownenshield  voice  was  loud  and  au- 
thoritative; it  appeared  to  demand  informa- 
tion as  something  due,  upon  which  interest 
had  accumulated. 

"  I  am  Mary  Tripp's  daughter,"  Evelyn'  in- 
formed her,  in  a  sudden  panic  lest  she  be  mis- 
taken for  an  object  of  charity;  then  she  hesi- 
tated, at  a  loss  for  something  to  say  next. 

Mrs.  Crownenshield  sighed  heavily.  "  Poor 
woman,"  she  observed  lugubriously.  "  Mary 
Tripp  has  had  many  trials  to  support." 

Evelyn's  small,  sensitive  face  grew  a  shade 
paler.  "  Yes,"  she  agreed,  "  my  dear  mother 
has  had  more  than  her  share  of  sorrow  and 
loss.  I  wonder  if  you  knew  that  we — that 
mother  lost  all  of  her  remaining  property  in 
the  failure  of  the  Back-Bay  Security  Com- 
pany?" 


132       Those  Brewster  Children 

Mrs.  Crownenshield's  cold  grey  eyes  opened 
a  little  wider  upon  her  visitor.  "How  regret- 
table !  "  she  observed.  "  No ;  I  had  not  heard 
of  it.  But  I  fear  many  others  have  suffered 
with  Mary  Tripp.  Fortunately  for  me,  my 
dear  late  husband's  investments  were  conserva- 
tive and  safe.  Mr.  Crownenshield  did  not  ap- 
prove of  Trust  Companies — except  those  which 
he  controlled  himself.  If  John  Tripp  had 
seen  fit  to  leave  his  money  in  trust  with  Mr. 
Crownenshield — and  I  have  always  felt  sur- 
prised and  hurt  to  think  that  he  did  not  do  so, 
after  all  the  business  relations  of  the  past 
— Mary  Tripp  would  be  quite  comfortable  to- 
day. Pray  convey  to  your  poor  afflicted 
mother  my  condolences,  and  tell  her  that  I 
was  greatly  grieved  to  learn  of  her  misfor- 
tunes." 

Evelyn  mumured  incoherent  thanks. 

"  I — came  this  morning  to  ask — your  ad- 
vice," she  added  after  a  heavy  pause.  "  I 
thought — that  is,  mother  thought — that  per- 
haps you — might  know  of  something  I  could 
do  to — to  earn  money.  I  must  do  something, 
you  know."  She  had  grown  hot  and  cold  with 
the  shame  of  this  confession  under  the  unwink- 


Those  Brewster  Children        133 

ing  gaze  of  Mrs.  Crownenshield's  colourless 
eyes. 

That  lady  folded  her  large  white  hands  upon 
which  glittered  several  massive  rings. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  advise  you,"  she  said, 
"  if  you  will  acquaint  me  with  your  qualifications 
for  service.  I  have  frequent  opportunities  to 
place  indigent  but  worthy  females,  such  as  you 
appear  to  be.  Are  you  a  good  seamstress  ?  " 

"I  fear  not,  Mrs.  Crownenshield,"  faltered 
Evelyn.  "  I  never  liked  sewing." 

"  You  could  earn  a  dollar  a  day  as  a  skilled 
seamstress,"  intoned  the  female  philanthropist 
inexorably.  "  Whether  you  like  sewing  or  not 
is  of  very  little  consequence  in  view  of  your 
necessities." 

"  I  thought  I  should  prefer  teaching,  or " 

Mrs.  Crownenshield  glanced  abstractedly  at 
the  massive  watch  which  depended  from  some 
sort  of  funereal  device  in  black  enamel  upon 
her  ample  bosom,  and  compared  its  silent  in- 
formation with  that  of  the  black  marble  time- 
piece on  the  mantle.  Then  she  arose  with  a 
smile,  which  apeared  to  have  been  carven 
upon  her  large  pallid  face  with  the  effect  of  a 
mask. 


134       Those  Brewster  Children 

"I  am  very  sorry  indeed  that  I  can  not 
give  you  more  of  my  time  this  morning," 
she  said  mournfully.  "  But  I  have  a  board- 
meeting  of  The  Protestant  Evangelical  Refuge 
for  aged,  indigent  and  immoral  females  at 
half-past  eleven  o'clock;  and  at  one  I  am  due 
at  a  luncheon  of  the  Federated  Woman's 
Charitable  Associations  of  Boston,  at  which  I 
shall  preside." 

She  arose  and  enfolded  both  of  Miss  Tripp's 
small  cold  hands  in  her  large,  moist  clasp,  with 
an  air  of  fervid  emotion. 

"  I  feel  for  you,"  she  sighed,  "  I  do  indeed ! 
and  my  heart  bleeds  for  your  unfortunate 
mother.  Mary  Tripp  was  always  accustomed 
to  every  luxury  and  extravagance.  She  must 
feel  the  change  to  abject  poverty;  but  I  trust 
she  will  endeavour  to  lift  her  thoughts  from  the 
sordid  cares  of  earth  toward  that  better  land 
where — I  feel  sure — my  dear  late  husband  is 
enjoying  the  rest  that  remaineth.  After  all, 
my  poor  girl,  the  consolations  of  religion  are 
the  only  sure  refuge  in  this  sad  world.  I  al- 
ways strive  to  point  the  way  to  those  situated 
like  yourself." 


Those  Brewster  Children        135 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Crownenshield,"  said  Eve- 
lyn stonily. 

"  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do  to  assist  you 
further,  don't  fail  to  call  upon  me  freely!" 
warbled  the  lady,  as  Evelyn  passed  out  into 
the  hall.  "  I  will  send  you  copies  of  the  litera- 
ture illustrating  the  work  of  our  various  ref- 
uges and  asylums.  You  may  be  glad  to  refer 
to  them  later." 

Evelyn  found  herself  in  the  street,  she  hardly 
knew  how,  her  little  feet  carrying  her  swiftly 
away  from  the  Crownenshield  residence.  She 
felt  hurt  and  outraged  in  every  fibre  of  her 
being,  and  her  tear-blurred  eyes  took  little  note 
of  the  weather  which  had  changed  from  a  wet 
clinging  snow  to  mingled  rain  and  sleet,  which 
beat  upon  her  unprotected  face  like  invisible 
whips.  She  did  not  know  where  to  go,  or  what 
to  do  next;  but  she  hurried  blindly  forward, 
her  limp  skirts  gathered  in  one  hand,  her  head 
bent  against  the  piercing  wind. 

Then,  strangely  enough,  the  stinging  blast 
seemed  suddenly  shut  away  and  she  looked  up 
to  find  a  stout  umbrella  interposed  between  her 
and  the  storm.  The  handle  of  the  umbrella 


136        Those  Brewster  Children 

was  grasped  by  a  large,  masterful-looking 
hand  in  a  shabby  brown  glove,  and  a  broad 
shoulder  hove  into  view  from  behind  the  hand. 

"  Where  is  your  umbrella,  Miss  Tripp  ?  "  in- 
quired a  voice,  as  masterful  in  its  way  as  the 
hand. 

"Oh!— I— that  is,  I  forgot  it,"  she  faltered, 
looking  up  into  Mr.  George  Hickey's  eyes,  with 
a  belated  consciousness  of  the  tears  in  her  own. 
"  The  rain — is — wet,"  she  added,  with  star- 
tling originality. 

"  Hum ;  yes,"  assented  Mr.  Hickey  thought- 
fully. He  was  striving  in  his  dull  masculine 
way  to  account  for  the  wan,  woe-begone  ex- 
pression of  Miss  Tripp's  face  and  for  the  tell- 
tale drops  on  her  thick  brown  lashes.  "  I  was 
on  my  way  to  luncheon  when  I  saw  you,"  he 
went  on.  " — Er — have  you — lunched,  Miss 
Tripp?" 

Evelyn  shook  her  head.  "  Is  it  as  late  as 
that?  "  she  said.  "  I  ought  to  go " 

"  Not  back  to  Mrs.  Brewster's,"  he  said ;  "  it's 
too  late  for  that. — Er — won't  you  give  me 
the — er — the  pleasure  of  lunching  with  you? 
I — er — in  fact,  I'm  exceedingly  hungry  my- 
self, and " 


Those  Brewster  Children        137 

Mr.  Hickey  stopped  short  and  looked  about 
him  somewhat  wildly.  It  had  just  occurred  to 
him  that  he  could  not  invite  Miss  Tripp  to 
accompany  him  to  the  business  men's  lunch- 
room where  he  usually  took  his  unimportant 
meal,  and  he  wondered  what  sort  of  a  place 
women  went  to  anyway,  and  what  they  ate? 

The  experienced  Miss  Tripp  smiled;  she  ap- 
peared to  read  his  thoughts  with  an  ease 
which  astonished  while  it  frightened  him  a 
little. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  ask  me,  Mr. 
Hickey,"  she  said  prettily,  "  and  I  shall  be 
very  happy  to  take  lunch  with  you.  Do  you 
go  to  Daniels'  ?  It  is  such  a  nice  place,  I  think, 
and  not  far  up  the  street." 

"  Oh — er — yes ;  certainly.  I  like  Daniels' 
exceedingly.  A  good  place,  very.  We'll — ah 

— just  step  across  and Oh,  I  beg  your 

pardon !  " 

Mr.  Hickey  was  so  agitated  by  the  sudden 
and  unprecedented  position  in  which  he  found 
himself  that  he  almost  knocked  Miss  Tripp's 
hat  off  with  a  sudden  swoop  of  his  umbrella, 
as  they  crossed  the  street. 

"  How  stupid  of  me ! "  he  cried,  as  she  put 


138        Those  Brewster  Children 

it  straight  with  one  little  hand,  smiling  up  at 
him  forgivingly  as  she  did  it.  "  I'm  an  awk- 
ward sort  of  a  chap,  anyway,"  he  went  on 
with  another  illustrative  jab  of  the  umbrella. 
"  I  guess  I'm  hopeless  as — er — a  ladies'  man." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  aren't,"  contradicted  Miss 
Tripp  sweetly.  "I  never  felt  more  relieved 
and — and  happy  than  when  I  looked  up  to  find 
your  big  umbrella  between  my  head  and  the 
storm.  I  went  off  to  town  in  such  a  hurry  this 
morning  that  I  left  my  umbrella  in  the  rack  in 
Elizabeth's  hall." 

He  tried  not  to  look  his  curiosity ;  then  blurted 
out  his  uppermost  thought.  "  You  looked  aw- 
fully done  up  when  I  overtook  you;  what — 
er »> 

"  I  was,"  she  confessed.  "  I  was  ready  to 
weep  with  rage  and  disappointment.  Have  you 
ever  felt  that  way  ?  " 

"Well,  no,"  said  Mr.  Hickey  candidly;  "I 
can't  say  that  I've  ever  got  to  the  point  you 
mention.  I  don't  believe  I've  shed  a  tear  since 
— since  my  mother  died.  She  was  the  only 
person  in  the  world  who  cared  a  rap  whether 
I  sank  or  swam,  survived  or  perished,  and 
after  she  went.  I But  I've  been  angry 


Those  Brewster  Children        139 

enough  to — er — cuss  a  little  now  and  then.  Of 
course  ladies  can't  do  that,  so " 

Evelyn  smiled  appreciatively.  "  It  might 
have  relieved  my  feelings  if  you  had  been  there 
to  use  a  little — strong  language  for  me,"  she 
said.  Then  she  told  him  something  of  her  visit 
to  Mrs.  Crownenshield  and  its  outcome. 

"  Hum,  yes ! "  he  observed.  "  I  fancy  I 
know  her  sort,  and  I — er — despise  it.  What 
did  you  want  her  to  do  for  you?  There,  now 
I've  put  my  foot  in!  It's  none  of  my  busi- 
ness of  course,  Miss  Tripp,  and  you  needn't  tell 
me." 

Evelyn  hesitated.  "  I  shouldn't  like  you  to 
think  I'm  whining  or  complaining,"  she  said 
soberly ;  "  but  there's  no  reason  why  you — or 
anyone — shouldn't  know  that  I  am  looking  for 
work.  I  never  have  worked" — the  brave  voice 
faltered  a  little — "but  that's  no  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  work  now.  In  fact,  it's  a  reason  why 
I  must.  Everything  was  different  when  I  was 
a  girl  to  what  it  is  now,"  she  went  on,  calmly 
ignoring  her  "  feelings-on-the-subject-of-her- 
age  "  which  had  of  late  years  been  abnormally 
sensitive.  "  I  wasn't  brought  up  to  do  any- 
thing more  useful  than  to  sew  lace  on  a  pocket- 


140        Those  Brewster  Children 

handkerchief  and  play  a  few  easy  pieces  on 
the  piano.  Of  course  I  learned  a  little  French 
— enough  to  chatter  ungrammatically  when  we 
went  abroad — and  a  little  bad  German,  and  a 
little — a  very  little  execrable  Italian — nothing 
of  a  usable  quantity  or  quality,  you  see;  so 
now  I  find  myself " 

"  But  why  ?  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  urged 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  The  usual  and  what  should  have  been  the 
expected,  I  suppose,"  she  told  him.  "  We — 
that  is  mother  and  I — lost  our  money.  We 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing  happening.  We 
had  always  drawn  checks  for  what  we  wanted, 
and  that  was  all  there  was  of  it — till  the  bank 
closed,  and  then  of  course  we  had  to  think." 

"  I'm — Confound  it ;  it's  too  bad !  "  he  said 
strongly.  "Banks  have  no  business  to  close; 
it's — er — it's  a  national  disgrace.  There 
ought  to  be  some  law  to — er — put  a  stop  to 
such  outrages  on  civilisation!" 

Miss  Tripp  said  nothing.  She  was  experi- 
encing a  quite  natural  revulsion  of  feeling,  and 
was  now  exceedingly  sorry  that  she  had  con- 
fided anything  of  her  affairs  to  Mr.  Hickey. 
*'  He'll  think  of  course  that  I  am  making  a 


Those  Brewster  Children        141 

cheap  bid  for  sympathy — perhaps  trying  to 
borrow  money  of  him,"  she  thought,  while  a 
painful  scarlet  crept  up  into  her  pale  cheeks. 

Mr.  Hickey  was  not  a  tactful  man.  He  did 
not  observe  the  unwonted  colour  in  Miss 
Tripp's  face,  nor  the  proud  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I've  got  more  money  than  I  know  what  to 
do  with,"  he  said  bluntly,  "  and — er — I  wish 
you'd  allow  me  to " 

Miss  Tripp  stopped  short.  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Hickey,"  she  exclaimed  regretfully,  "I  don't 
know  what  you  will  think  of  me  for  accepting 
your  kind  invitation  to  luncheon,  and  then 
leaving  you — as  I  must.  I'd  entirely  forgot- 
ten an  important  engagement  to  meet — a 
friend  of  mine.  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  ex- 
cuse me.  It's  too  bad,  isn't  it?  But  I  am  so 
forgetful.  And — please  don't  worry  about  my 
absurd  confidences.  Really,  I  exaggerated;  I 
always  do.  We  are  perfectly  comfortable — 
mother  and  I — only  of  course  it  was  hard  to 
lose  our  surplus — the  jam  on  our  bread,  as  I 
tell  mother.  But  one  can  live  quite  comfort- 
ably on  plain  bread,  and  it  is  far  better  for 
one ;  I  know  that.  Good-bye !  So  kind  of  you 
to  shelter  me ! — No ;  I  couldn't  think  of  taking 


142       Those  Brewster  Children 

your  umbrella !  Really ;  don't  you  see  the  rain 
is  over;  besides,  I'm  going  to  take  this  car. 
Good-bye,  and  thank  you  so  much ! " 

Mr.  Hickey  stood  quite  still  on  the  corner 
where  she  had  left  him  and  stared  medita- 
tively after  the  car,  which  bore  her  away,  for 
the  space  of  two  unfruitful  minutes.  Then  he 
turned  squarely  around  and  plodded  down 
town  to  the  business  men's  lunchroom.  He 
did  not  care,  he  told  himself,  to  change  his 
habits  by  lunching  at  Daniels',  which  was  a 
foolishly  expensive  place  and  haunted  by 
crowds  of  women  shoppers.  Women  were 
singular  things,  anyway.  Mr.  Hickey  was  sat- 
isfied, on  the  whole,  that  he  was  not  obliged  to 
meet  them  often.  And  later  in  the  day  he  was 
selfishly  pleased  that  he  had  not  been  obliged 
to  loan  his  umbrella;  for  the  rain,  which  had 
ceased  a  little,  came  down  in  icy  torrents  which 
froze  as  it  fell  on  the  sidewalks  and  branches 
of  the  trees. 


XIV 

EVELYN  TEIPP  never  informed  anyone  where 
she  went  on  the  car  that  bore  her  triumphantly 
away  from  Mr.  Hickey  and  the  conversation 
which  had  suddenly  grown  intolerable.  The 
intolerable  part  of  it  was  her  own  fault,  she 
told  herself.  And — well,  she  realised  that  she 
was  paying  for  it,  as  she  jounced  along  over 
mile  after  mile  of  uneven  track,  through  un- 
familiar, yet  drearily  monotonous  streets. 
Damp,  uncomfortable-looking  people  came  and 
went,  and  from  time  to  time  the  conductor 
glanced  curiously  at  the  small  lady  in  the  fash- 
ionably-cut jacket  and  furs,  who  shrank  back 
in  her  corner  gazing  with  unseeing  eyes  out  of 
the  dripping  windows. 

"  Las'  stop ! "  he  shouted  impatiently,  as  the 
car  came  to  a  groaning  standstill  away  out  in 
a  shabby  suburb,  where  several  huge  factories 
were  in  process  of  erection. 

Miss  Tripp  started  up  and  looked  out  at  the 
sodden  fields  and  muddy,  half-frozen  road. 
Two  or  three  dirty,  dispirited-looking  men 

143 


144        Those  Brewster  Children 

boarded  the  car  and  sat  down  heavily,  deposit- 
ing their  tools  at  their  feet.  Then  the  driver 
and  conductor,  who  had  swung  the  trolley 
around,  and  accomplished  other  official  duties 
incident  to  the  terminal,  entered,  closing  the 
doors  behind  them  with  a  professional  crash. 

Both  stared  at  Miss  Tripp  who  had  sub- 
sided into  her  corner  again. 

"  Say,  Bill ;  nice  weather  for  a  trolley-ride 
— heh?"  observed  the  motor-man,  shifting  an 
obvious  quid  of  something  in  his  capacious 
mouth. 

"  Aw — you  shut  up,  Cho'ley ! "  growled  his 
superior. 

Bill  thoughtfully  obeyed,  drumming  with  his 
feet  on  the  floor  and  pursing  up  his  tobacco- 
stained  lips  in  an  inaudible  whistle.  Presently  he 
glanced  at  his  big  nickel  watch  and  shook  his 
head  at  the  conductor.  "  A  minute  an'  a  half 
yet,  b'  mine,"  he  said;  "made  a  quick  trip 
out." 

Then  he  cast  another  side-long  glance  at  the 
one  lady  passengdr.  "  Grot  carried  past,  I 
guess,"  he  suggested  with  a  wink.  "  Better 
look  sharp  for  the  right  street  on  the  way 
back,  Bill." 


Those  Brewster  Children        145 

"  You  bet,"  observed  the  other,  with  his  hand 
on  the  bell-rope.  "  I'm  on  the  job  all  right." 

Elizabeth  Brewster  was  giving  her  youngest 
son  his  supper  when  her  friend  Miss  Tripp  en- 
tered her  hospitable  door. 

"  Oh,  Evelyn ! "  she  began,  with  an  eager  air 
of  welcome ;  "  I  was  hoping  you  would  come 
home  early  to-night,  Marian  Stanford  was 

here  this  afternoon ;  she  wants  to  go 

But  Evelyn,  dear,  what  ever  is  the  matter? 
You're  as  white  as  a  ghost.  Don't  you  feel 
well?" 

Miss  Tripp  valiantly  plucked  up  a  wan 
smile. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well,"  she  declared ;  "  but, 
Betty  dear,  could  you  give  me  a  cup  of 
tea?  I  was  so — busy  and — hurried  to-day 
that  I  forgot  all  about  my  luncheon,  and  I 
just  this  minute  realised  it." 

Elizabeth  hurried  into  the  kitchen  on  hos- 
pitable cares  intent  and  Evelyn  sank  wearily 
into  a  chair.  Her  head  was  swimming  with 
weariness  and  the  lack  of  food;  cold,  discour- 
aged drops  crowded  her  blue  eyes. 

Richard   quietly    absorbing   bread    and    milk 


146       Those  Brewster  Children 

from  a  gay  china  bowl  gazed  at  her  with  a 
round  speculative  stare. 

"  Cwyin'  ?  "  he  observed  in  a  bird-like  voice. 

"No,  dear,"  denied  Miss  Tripp,  winking 
resolutely.  "What  made  you  think  of  such  a 
thing,  precious  ?  " 

"  'Cause  it's — it's  naughty  to  cwy." 

*'I  know  it,  dear;  and  I'm  going  to  smile; 
that's  better;  isn't  it?" 

Her  somewhat  hysterical  effort  after  her  usual 
cheerful  expression  did  not  appear  to  deceive 
Richard.  He  waved  his  spoon  charged  with 
milk  in  her  general  direction. 

"  I'm  a  dood  boy,"  he  announced  with  pride. 
"  I  eat  my  shupper  an'  I  don't  cwy." 

"  Here  is  the  tea  you're  evidently  perishing 
for,  Evelyn  dear,"  said  Elizabeth,  setting  a 
steaming  cup  before  her  guest ;  "  and  I've 
some  good  news  for  you — at  least  I'm  hoping 
you'll  like  it.  I'm  sure  I  should  love  to  have 
you  so  near  us,  and  it  would  give  you  plenty 
of  time  to  choose  something  permanent." 

Miss  Tripp's  wan  face  had  taken  on  a  tinge 
of  colour  as  she  sipped  the  hot  tea.  "  What  is 
it,  Betty  ?  "  she  asked  quietly  enough,  though 
her  heart  was  beating  hard  with  hope  deferred. 


Those  Brewster  Children        147 

"  Did  that  Popham  man  call  to  see  me  after 
all?" 

"No,"  Elizabeth  said;  "it  isn't  the  Pop- 
ham  man.  And  perhaps  you  won't  like  the 
idea  at  all.  I  started  to  tell  you  that  Marian 
— Mrs.  Stanford — was  here  this  afternoon. 
She  came  over  to  tell  me  that  her  husband  is 
going  to  California  on  a  business  trip ;  he  wants 
her  to  go  with  him  and  she  is  wild  to  go;  but 
she  doesn't  know  what  to  do  with  the  two  chil- 
dren. She  can't  take  them  along,  as  Mr.  Stan- 
ford will  be  obliged  to  travel  rapidly  from 
place  to  place.  Her  mother  is  almost  an  in- 
valid and  can't  bear  the  excitement  of  having 
them  with  her.  It  just  occurred  to  me  that 
perhaps  you  might  be  willing  to  stay  with  the 
children.  I  spoke  of  it  to  Marian  and  she  was 
delighted  with  the  idea.  You  could  have  your 
mother  come  and  stay  with  you,  you  know,  and 
the  house  is  so  comfortable  and  pretty." 

Elizabeth  broke  off  in  sudden  consternation 
at  sight  of  the  usually  self-possessed  Miss 
Tripp  shaken  with  uncontrollable  sobs. 
"  Why,  Evelyn,"  she  cried,  "  I  never  thought 
you  would  feel  that  way  about  it.  Of  course 
I  had  no  business  to  speak  of  you  to  Marian 


148        Those  Brewster  Children 

without  consulting  you  first;  but  I  thought — I 
hoped " 

"It — isn't  that,  Elizabeth,"  Miss  Tripp 
managed  to  say,  "  I'm — not  offended — only 
tired.  Don't  mind  me ;  I'll  be  all  right  as  soon 
as  I've  swallowed  my  tea  and " 

"  It's  naughty  to  cwy,"  chirped  Richard, 
waving  his  milky  spoon  rebukingly.  "  I'm  a 
dood  boy.  I  eat  my  shupper  an'  I  don't  cwy." 

In  a  fresh  gown,  with  her  nerves  once  more 
under  control,  Evelyn  was  able  to  look  more 
composedly  at  the  door  which  had  so  unexpect- 
edly opened  in  the  blind  wall  of  her  dilemma. 
There  were  serious  disadvantages — as  Elizabeth 
was  careful  to  point  out — in  attempting  the 
charge  of  the  Stanford  children,  in  conjunction 
with  various  undeniable  privileges  and  a  gener- 
ous emolument. 

"  Robbie  is  certainly  a  handful  for  anybody 
to  cope  with,  and  the  baby  is  a  spoiled  child 
already."  Elizabeth's  voice  sank  to  a  soulful 
murmur,  as  she  added,  "  Marian  has  always 
believed  in  punishing  her  children — whipping 
them,  I  mean ;  and  you  know,  Evelyn,  how  that 
brutalises  a  child." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Miss  Tripp  knew  very 


Those  Brewster  Children        149 

little  about  children;  but  like  the  majority  of 
persons  who  have  never  dealt  familiarly  with 
infant  humanity,  she  had  formulated  various 
sage  theories  concerning  their  upbringing. 

"  Dear  Elizabeth,"  she  replied,  "  how  true  that 
is;  and  yet  how  few  mothers  realise  it.  Chil- 
dren should  be  controlled  solely  by  love;  I  am 
sure  I  shall  have  no  trouble  at  all  with  those 
two  dear  little  boys." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  In  less  than  a  week's 
time  Mrs.  Stanford  had  departed  upon  her 
long  journey.  At  the  last  she  clung  some- 
what wistfully  to  Elizabeth. 

"  I'm  almost  afraid  to  go  and  leave  the  chil- 
dren," she  said.  "  Of  course  I  feel  every  confi- 
dence in  Miss  Tripp ;  but  you  know,  Betty,  how 

resourceful  Robert  is,  and  how But  you'll 

have  an  eye  to  them  all ;  won't  you  ?  And  tele- 
graph us  if — if  anything  should  happen  ?  " 

Elizabeth  promised  everything.  But  she 
was  conscious  of  a  great  weight  of  responsi- 
bility as  the  carriage  containing  the  light- 
hearted  Stanfords  rolled  away  down  the  street. 
"  Oh,  Evelyn ! "  she  said ;  "  do  watch  Robbie 
carefully,  and  be  sure  and  call  me  if  the  least 
thing  is  the  matter  with  the  baby." 


150        Those  Brewster  Children 

Miss  Tripp  smiled  confidently.  "  I'm  not 
the  least  bit  worried,"  she  said.  "  Little  Rob- 
ert loves  me  devotedly  already,  and  I  am  sure 
will  be  most  tractable  and  obedient;  and  Liv- 
ingstone is  a  very  healthy  child.  Besides,  you 
know,  I  have  mother,  who  knows  everything 
about  children." 

She  went  back  into  her  newly  acquired  do- 
main, feeling  that  a  sympathising  Providence 
had  been  very  good  to  her,  and  resolving  to  do 
her  full  duty,  as  she  conceived  it,  by  the  tem- 
porarily motherless  Stanford  children. 

In  pursuance  of  this  resolve  she  repaired  at 
once  to  the  nursery  when  the  Stanfords  had 
taken  leave  of  their  offspring,  after  presenting 
them  with  a  parcel  of  new  toys  upon  which  the 
children  had  fallen  with  shouts  of  joy. 

"  I  really  could  not  go  away  and  leave  them 
looking  wistfully  out  of  the  windows  after  us," 
Mrs.  Stanford  had  declared,  with  tears  in  her 
bright  brown  eyes.  "I  should  think  of  them 
that  way  every  minute  while  we  were  gone,  and 
imagine  them  crying  after  me." 

"  They  won't  cry,  dear  Mrs.  Stanford,"  Eve- 
lyn had  assured  her.  "  I  shall  devote  every 
moment  of  my  time  to  them  and  keep  them 


Those  Brewster  Children       151 

just  as  happy  as  wee  little  birdlings  in  a 
nest." 

The  youngest  Stanford  child  was  peacefully 
engaged  in  demolishing  a  book  of  bright  pic- 
tures, while  his  elder  brother  was  trying  the 
blade  of  a  glittering  jack-knife  on  the  wood 
of  the  mantel-piece,  when  Miss  Tripp  re-en- 
tered the  room. 

"  Oh,  my  dears ! "  exclaimed  their  new  guard- 
ian with  a  tactful  smile,  "  I  wouldn't  do  that ! " 

The  Stanford  infant  paid  no  manner  of  at- 
tention to  the  mildly  worded  request;  but  the 
older  boy  turned  and  stared  resentfully  at  her. 
"  This  is  my  jack-knife,"  he  announced  con- 
clusively ;  "  my  daddy  gave  it  to  me  to  whittle 
with,  an'  I'm  whittlin'." 

"  But  your  father  wouldn't  like  you  to  cut 
the  mantel-shelf;  don't  you  know  he  wouldn't, 
dear?" 

"I'm  goin*  to  whittle  it  jus*  the  same,  'cause 
you  ain't  my  mother ;  you  ain't  even  my  gran'- 
ma." 

Miss  Tripp,  unable  to  deny  the  refutation, 
looked  about  her  distractedly.  "  I'll  tell  Norah 
to  get  you  a  nice  piece  of  wood,"  she  said. 
"  Where  is  Norah,  dear?  " 


152       Those  Brewster  Children 

"  She's  gone  down  to  the  corner  to  talk  to 
her  beau,"  replied  Master  Robert,  calmly  con- 
tinuing to  dig  his  new  knife  into  the  mantel. 
"  She's  got  a  p'liceman  beau,  an'  so's  Annie ; 
on'y  hers  is  a  street-car  driver.  Have  you  got 
one,  Miss  Tripp  ?  " 

"Call  me  Aunty  Evelyn,  dear;  that'll  be 
nicer;  don't  you  think  it  will?  And — Robert 
dear;  if  you'll  stop  cutting  the  mantel  Aunty 
Evelyn  will  tell  you  the  loveliest  story,  all 
about " 

"Aw — I  don't  like  stories  much.  They're 
good  'nough  for  girls  I  guess,  but  I " 

Then  the  knife  slipped  and  the  amateur  car- 
penter burst  into  a  deafening  roar  of  anguish. 


XV 

VEKY  much  to  his  surprise,  Mr.  Hickey  found 
himself  disposed  to  hark  back  to  the  day  on 
which  he  had  so  unexpectedly  parted  company 
with  Miss  Tripp  on  the  corner  of  Tremont  and 
Washington  Streets.  He  had  intended,  he 
told  himself,  to  order  for  their  luncheon  broiled 
chicken,  macaroons  and  pink  ice-cream,  as  be- 
ing articles  presumably  suited  to  the  feminine 
taste.  He  remembered  vaguely  to  have  heard 
Miss  Tripp  mention  pink  ice-cream,  and  all 
women  liked  the  wing  of  a  chicken.  Was  the 
unknown  "  friend "  with  whom  she  had  made 
that  previous  engagement,  a  man  or  a  woman? 
he  wondered,  deciding  with  the  well-known  ego- 
ism of  his  sex  in  favour  of  the  first  mentioned. 
The  man  was  a  cad,  anyway,  Mr.  Hickey  was 
positive — though  he  could  not  have  particular- 
ised his  reasons  for  this  summary  conclusion. 
And  being  a  cad,  he  was  not  worthy  of  Miss 
Tripp's  slightest  consideration. 

If  he  had  the  thing  to  do  over  again,  he  told 
himself,  he  would  sDeak  up  boldly  to  Miss  Tripp 

153 


154        Those  Brewster  Children 

concerning  his  own  rights  in  the  matter;  he 
would  remind  her — humorously  of  course — 
that  possession  was  said  to  be  nine  points  in 
the  law;  and  that  he,  Hickey,  was  disposed  to 
do  battle  for  the  tenth  point  with  any  man 
living. 

He  grew  quite  hot  and  indignant  as  he  pic- 
tured his  rival  sitting  opposite  Miss  Tripp  in 
some  second-class  restaurant,  ordering  chicken 
and  ice-cream.  As  like  as  not  the  other  fellow 
wouldn't  know  that  she  preferred  her  ice-cream 
pink,  and . 

Mr.  Hickey  pulled  himself  up  with  a  jerk 
at  this  point  in  his  meditations  and  told 
himself  flatly  that  he  was  a  fool,  and  that 
further,  when  he  came  right  down  to  it,  he  did 
not  care  a  copper  cent  about  Miss  Tripp's 
luncheons,  past,  present  or  to  come.  What  he 
really  wanted  to  know — and  this  desire  gained 
poignant  force  and  persistence  as  the  days 
passed — was  whether  he  had  said  or  done  any- 
thing to  offend  the  lady.  He  remembered  that 
he  had  accidentally  jabbed  Miss  Tripp's  hat 
with  his  umbrella,  and  very  likely  put  a  feather 
or  two  out  of  business.  That  would  be  likely 
to  annoy  any  woman.  Perhaps  she  had  felt 


Those  Brewster  Children        155 

that  his  awkwardness  was  unpardonable,  and 
his  further  acquaintance  undesirable. 

Under  the  goad  of  this  latter  uncomfortable 
suspicion — in  two  weeks'  time  it  had  grown 
into  a  conviction — he  actually  made  his  way 
into  a  milliner's  shop  and  inquired  boldly  for 
"  feathers." 

"  What  sort  of  feathers,  sir?  "  inquired  the 
cool,  bright-eyed  young  person  who  came  for- 
ward to  ask  the  needs  of  the  tall,  professional- 
looking  man  wearing  glasses  and  exceedingly 
shabby  brown  gloves. 

"Why — er — just  feathers;  the  sort  ladies 
wear  on  hats." 

The  young  person  smiled  condescendingly. 
"Something  in  plumes,  sir?"  she  asked,  "or 
was  it  coque  or  marabout  you  wished  to  see  ?  " 

"  Something  handsome.  Long — er — and  not 
too  curly." 

The  young  woman  produced  a  box  and  opened 
it. 

"How  do  you  like  this,  sir?  Only  twenty 
dollars.  Was  it  for  an  old  lady  or  a  young 
lady?" 

"  Er — a  young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Hickey  hast- 
ily. "  That  is  to  say,  she " 


156       Those  Brewster  Children 

"  Your  wife,  perhaps  ?  "  and  the  young  person 
smiled  intelligently.  "  How  would  your  lady 
like  something  like  this  ?  "  And  she  held  up  a 
sweeping  plume  of  a  dazzling  shade  of  green. 
"  This  is  quite  the  latest  swell  thing  from 
Paris,  sir;  can  be  worn  on  either  a  black  or 
a  white  hat." 

Mr.  Hickey  reflected.  "I — er — think  the 
feathers  were  black,"  he  observed  meditatively; 
"but  I  like  colours  myself.  Red — er — is  a 
handsome  colour  in  feathers."  He  eyed  the 
young  person  defiantly.  "  I  always  liked  a 
good  red,"  he  asserted  firmly. 

"  These  new  cerise  shades  are  all  the  rage 
now  in  Paris,  N'Yo'k  an'  Boston,"  agreed  the 
young  person,  promptly  pulling  out  another 
box.  "  Look  at  this  grand  plume  in  shaded 
tints,  isir!  Isn't  it  just  perfectly  stun- 
ning? " 

It  was.  Mr.  Hickey  surveyed  it  in  rapt  ad- 
miration, as  the  young  person  dangled  it  al- 
luringly within  range  of  his  short-sighted 
vision. 

"  I'd  want  two  of  those,"  he  murmured. 

"  Forty-eight,  seventy,  sir ;  reduced  from 
fifty  dollars;  shall  I  send  them?" 


Those  Brewster  Children        157 

"  I — er — I'll  take  them  with  me,"  said  the 
engineer,  pulling  out  a  roll  of  bills. 

"  Women's  hats  must  be  singularly  expen- 
sive," he  mused  for  the  first  time  in  his  pro- 
fessional career,  as  he  strode  away  down  the 
street,  gingerly  bearing  his  late  purchase  in  a 
pasteboard  box.  It  had  not  before  occurred  to 
Mr.  Hickey  that  mere  "  feathers "  were  so 
costly.  He  trembled  as  he  reflected  upon  the 
ravages  committed  by  his  unthinking  umbrella. 
Anyway,  these  particular  plumes  were  hand- 
some enough  to  replace  the  ones  he  had  un- 
doubtedly ruined.  He  grew  eager  to  behold 
Miss  Tripp's  face  under  the  cerise  plumes.  But 
how  was  this  to  be  brought  "about  ?  Obviously 
this  new  perplexity  demanded  time  for  consid- 
eration. He  carried  the  plumes  home  to  his 
boarding-place,  therefore,  and  stored  them 
away  on  the  top  shelf  of  his  closet,  where  they 
were  discovered  on  the  following  day  by  his 
landlady,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  keeping  what 
she  was  pleased  to  term  "  a  motherly  eye  "  upon 
the  belongings  of  her  unattached  boarders. 

"  Well,  I  mus*  say ! "  exclaimed  the  worthy 
Mrs.  McAlarney  to  herself,  when  her  amazed 
eyes  fell  upon  the  contents  of  the  strange  box, 


158       Those  Brewster  Children 

purporting  to  have  come  from  a  fashionable 
milliner's  shop ;  "  if  that  ain't  the  greatest ! 
Whatever's  got  into  Mr.  Hickey  ?  " 

But  the  cerise  plumes  tarried  in  undeserved 
obscurity  on  the  shelf  of  Mr.  Hickey's  clothes- 
press  for  exactly  fifteen  days  thereafter;  then 
they  suddenly  disappeared. 

In  the  meantime  their  purchaser  continued  to 
indulge  in  unaccustomed  reflections  from  day 
to  day.  He  made  no  effort  during  all  this 
time  to  see  Miss  Tripp;  but  on  the  fifteenth 
day  he  chanced  to  meet  Sam  Brewster  as  he 
was  about  entering  the  business  men's  lunch- 
room, which  Mr.  Hickey  still  frequented  as  in 
former  days. 

"  Hello,  old  man ! "  was  Sam's  greeting. 
"  Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself  all 
these  weeks?  I  thought  you'd  be  around 
some  evening  to  see  us." 

"  Er — I've  been  thinking  of  it,"  admitted  Mr. 
Hickey  cautiously.  "Is — er — Mrs.  Brewster's 
friend,  Miss  Tripp,  still  with  you  ?  " 

"No,  George;  she  isn't,"  Sam  told  him,  en- 
joying the  look  of  uncontrolled  dismay  which 
instantly  overspread  Mr.  Hickey's  countenance. 
"  She's  gone  next  door  to  stay,"  he  added. 


Those  Brewster  Children        159 

"Next  door — to — er  stay?" 

"At  the  StanforoV  you  know.  Miss  Tripp 
is  keeping  house  and  looking  after  the  young 
Stanfords  while  their  exhausted  parents  are 
endeavouring  to  recuperate  their  energies  in 
the  far  west." 

"  Hum — ah,"  quoth  Mr.  Hickey  thought- 
fully, his  mind  reverting  casually  to  the  cerise 
plumes. 

"  She's  doing  wonders  with  those  kids,  my 
wife  tells  me,"  pursued  Sam  Brewster  artfully. 
"  Miss  Tripp's  a  fine  girl  and  no  mistake ;  it'll 
be  a  lucky  man  who  can  secure  her  services  for 
life." 

Mr.  Hickey  offered  no  comment  on  this  state- 
ment, and  his  friend  waved  his  hand  in  token 
of  farewell. 

"  Come  around  and  see  us,  George,  when  you 
haven't  anything  better  to  do,"  he  said,  as  he 
stepped  out  to  the  street. 

"  Oh — er — I  say,  Brewster ;  would  it  be  the 
proper  thing  for  me  to  call  on  Miss  Tripp? 
I — I  have  a  little  explanation  to  make, 
and " 

"  Miss  Tripp's  mother  is  chaperoning  her," 
said  Sam,  with  unsmiling  gravity.  "  It  would 


160        Those  Brewster  Children 

be,  I  should  say,  quite  the  proper  thing  for 
you  to  call  upon  her." 

"  Well ;  then  I  think  I'd  better  take  those . 

Er — Brewster,  I  wonder  if  you  could  enlighten 
me? — You  see  it's  this  way,  a — friend  of  mine 
called  at  my  office  the  other  day  to  consult  me 
about  a  little  matter.  He  said  he'd  been  un- 
fortunate enough  to  injure  a  lady's  hat — 
feathers,  you  know — and  he  wanted  to  know 
what  I'd  do  under  like  circumstances.  *  Well, 
my  dear  fellow,'  I  told  him,  'I  don't  know 
much  about  women's  head-gear  and  that  sort 
of  thing ;  but,'  I  said,  *  I  should  think  the 
square  thing  to  do  would  be  to  buy  some  hand- 
some plumes  and  send  them  to  the  lady — some- 
thing good  and — er — expensive;  say  forty  or 
fifty  dollars.' " 

Sam  whistled.  "  Pretty  tough  advice,  unless 
the  fellow  happened  to  have  plenty  of  cash," 
he  hazarded,  with  a  quizzical  look  at  the  now 
flushed  and  agitated  Mr.  Hickey. 

"  Wouldn't  they  be  good  enough  at  that 
price  ? "  inquired  the  engineer  excitedly. 
"Ought  I — ought  my  friend  to  have  paid 
more  ?  " 

"I  should  say  that  was  a  fair  price,"  said 


Those  Brewster  Children        161 

Sam  mildly.  "  I  don't  believe  my  wife  has  any 
feathers  of  that  description  on  her  hats." 

Mr.  Hickey  looked  troubled.  "  Do  you  think 
I — er — told  my  friend  the  correct  thing  to 
do  ?  "  he  inquired  humbly.  "  Of  course  I  don't 
know  much  about — feathers,  or  anything  about 
women,  for  that  matter." 

"  That's  where  you're  making  a  big  mistake, 
Hickey,  if  you'll  allow  me  to  say  as  much.  You 
ought  to  marry  some  nice  girl,  man,  and  make 
her  happy.  You'd  find  yourself  happier  than 
you  have  any  idea  of  in  the  process." 

Mr.  Hickey  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "  That 
may  be  so,"  he  admitted.  "  I  don't  doubt  it, 

to  tell  you  the  truth ;  but  I .  The  fact  is, 

Brewster,  I'm  too  far  along  in  life  to  think  of 
changing  my  way  of  living.  I — I'd  be  afraid 
to  try  it,  for  fear " 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  man !  you're  just  in  your 
prime.  Be  sure  you  get  the  right  woman, 
though;  a  real  home-maker,  Hickey;  the  kind 
who'll  meet  you  at  night  with  a  smile,  and  have 
a  first-class  dinner  ready  for  you  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days  in  the  year." 

Mr.  Hickey  stared  inscrutably  at  a  passing1 
truck.  "Hum — ah!"  he  ejaculated.  "I — 


162       Those  Brewster  Children 

er — dare  say  you  are  right,  Brewster.  Quite 
so,  in  fact.  I — I'll  think  it  over  and  let  you 
know — that  is,  I "  . 

Sam  Brewster  turned  aside  to  conceal  a  pass- 
ing smile.  "  The  more  you  think  it  over  the 
better,"  he  said  convincingly ;  "  only  don't  take 
so  much  time  for  thinking  that  the  other  man'll 
cut  you  out." 

*'  Then  there  is  another  man !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Hickey,  with  some  agitation.  "  I  knew  it ;  I 
felt  sure  of  it.  But  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  " 

Sam  Brewster  stared  in  amazement  at  the  ef- 
fect produced  by  his  careless  speech.  "  There's 
always  another  man,  George,"  he  said  seriously 
• — though  he  felt  morally  certain  there  wasn't, 
if  Hickey  was  referring  to  Miss  Tripp. 
"  But  you  want  to  get  busy,  and  not  waste 
time  philandering." 


XVI 

THE  most  unthinking  observer  could  scarcely 
have  accused  Mr.  Hickey  of  "  philandering  " 
up  to  this  point;  inasmuch  as  he  had  not  laid 
eyes  on  the  object  of  his  thoughts — he  would 
have  demurred  at  a  stronger  word — for  up- 
wards of  a  month.  That  same  afternoon,  how- 
ever, he  left  his  office  at  the  unwarranted  hour 
of  two  o'clock,  bearing  a  milliner's  box  in  his 
hand  with  unblushing  gravity. 

It  was  after  he  had  rung  the  bell  at  the  Stan- 
ford residence  that  he  felt  a  fresh  accession  of 
doubt  regarding  the  cerise  plumes.  After  all, 
Brewster  had  neglected  to  put  his  mind  at 
ease  upon  that  important  point. 

Miss  Tripp  was  at  home,  the  maid  informed 
him,  and  showed  him  at  once  into  the  drawing- 
room  when  Miss  Tripp  herself,  charmingly 
gowned  in  old  rose,  presently  came  in  to  greet 
him. 

Mr.  Hickey  caught  himself  gazing  at  the 
subdued  tints  of  her  toilet  with  vague  disap- 
proval. It  was  not,  he  told  himself,  a  stunning 

163 


164       Those  Brewster  Children 

colour  such  as  was  all  the  rage  in  Paris,  New 
York  and  Boston.  He  felt  exceedingly  com- 
placent as  he  thought  of  the  plumes  awaiting 
her  acceptance. 

"  I  wonder,"  Miss  Tripp  was  saying  brightly, 
"  if  you  wouldn't  like  to  see  my  little  kinder- 
garten? To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Hickey,  I 
shouldn't  venture  to  leave  them  to  themselves, 
even  to  talk  with  you." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  library  where  they 
were  greeted  by  a  chorus  of  joyous  shouts. 

"  You  see,"  exqlaimed  Miss  Tripp,  "  I  am  en- 
tertaining all  five  of  the  children  this  after- 
noon. Elizabeth — Mrs.  Brewster — wished  to 
do  some  shopping,  so  I  offered  to  keep  an  in- 
terested eye  on  her  three  wee  lambkins." 

"We're  playin'  birdies,  Mr.  Hickey,"  said 
Doris,  taking  up  the  thread  of  explanation, 
"  Buddy  and  Baby  Stanford  are  my  little 
birdies;  an'  I'm  the  mother  bird,  an'  Carroll 
an'  Robbie  are  angleworms  jus'  crawlin'  round 
on  the  ground.  See  me  hop !  Now  I'm  lookin* 
for  a  breakfast  for  my  little  birds ! " 

The  two  infants  in  a  nest  of  sofa-pillows  set 
up  a  loud  chirping,  while  the  angleworms 
writhed  realistically  on  the  hearth-rug. 


Those  Brewster  Children        165 

"  Now  I'm  goin'  to  catch  one ! "  and  Doris 
pounced  upon  Robbie  Stanford.  "  Course  I 
can't  really  put  him  down  my  birdies'  throats," 
she  explained  kindly,  "I  just  p'tend;  like  this." 

"  Aw — this  isn't  any  fun,"  protested  her  vic- 
tim, as  she  haled  him  sturdily  across  the  floor. 
"  You're  pullin'  my  hair,  anyway ;  leg-go, 
Doris ;  I  ain't  no  really  worm." 

"  You  shouldn't  say  *  ain't,'  dear,"  admon- 
ished Miss  Tripp.  "  You  meant  to  say  '  I'm 
not  really  a  worm.'  But  I'm  sure  you've 
played  birdie  long  enough.  We'll  do  something 
else  now;  what  shall  it  be?" 

"  Let's  play  reg'lar  tea-party  with  lots  an' 
lots  o'  things  to  eat,"  suggested  Master  Stan- 
ford. "  I'm  hungry ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  dear ;  not  yet ;  you  can't  be," 
laughed  Miss  Tripp.  "We'll  have  a  tea- 
party,  though,  by  and  by,  and  you  shall  see 
what  a  nice  surprise  Cook  Annie  has  for  you." 

"  I  like  t'  eat  better  'n  anything;  don't  you?  " 
asked  Doris,  sidling  up  to  the  observant  Mr. 
Hickey,  who  was  watching  the  scene  with  an 
inscrutable  smile.  "  I  like  to  eat  candy  out 
of  a  big  box." 

"  Doris,  dear,"  interrupted  Miss  Tripp  tact- 


166       .Those  Brewster  Children 

fully,  "wouldn't  you  like  to  look  at  pictures  a 
little  while  with  the  boys?  Aunty  Evelyn 
has  some  pretty  books  that  you  haven't  seen. 
Come  here,  dear,  and  help  Aunty." 

"  I'm  tired  o'  pictures,"  objected  Doris  with 
a  pout.  "  I  want  to  play  train,  or  somethin' 
like  that ;  don't  you,  Robbie  ?  " 

"  Don't  want  to  play  anythin'  much ;  I'm  tired 
o*  bein'  s'  good,  'n'  I'd  rather  go  up  in  the  at- 
tic, or  somewhere,"  and  Master  Stanford  cast 
a  rebellious  glance  at  his  guardian. 

"Why  don't  you  let  them  go  out  doors  for  a 
while,"  suggested  Mr.  Hickey,  coming  unex- 
pectedly to  the  rescue. 

"  It's  snowing  a  little ;  and  I'm  afraid  Eliza- 
beth would  think  it  was  pretty  cold  for  Rich- 
ard," objected  Miss  Tripp. 

"  It'll  do  'em  good,"  insisted  Mr.  Hickey,  who 
was  selfishly  determined  to  clear  the  decks  for 
his  own  personal  ends.  He  had  somehow  for- 
mulated a  very  surprising  set  of  resolutions  as 
he  sat  watching  Miss  Tripp  in  the  discharge  of 
her  quasi  maternal  duties.  Primus:  It  was 
a  shame  for  a  sweet,  attractive  little  woman  to 
wear  herself  out  caring  for  other  people's 
houses  and  children.  Secundus:  If  there  was 


Those  Brewster  Children        167 

another  man  in  the  case  (as  Brewster  had  in- 
sinuated) he  was  determined  to  find  it  out 

without  further  delay.  Tertius:  If  not . 

Mr.  Hickey  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  out  in  the  yard  a  little 
while?  "  Miss  Tripp  was  asking  the  children 
doubtfully.  "  It  is  Norah's  afternoon  out,"  she 
explained  to  Mr.  Hickey,  "  and  I  don't  like  to 
have  them  play  out  of  doors  unless  someone  is 
with  them  to  see  that  nothing  happens.  It  is 
such  a  responsibility,"  she  added  with  a  little 
sigh.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  it  when  I  undertook 
it ;  I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  have  had  the  courage 

to .  Oh,  children;  wait  a  minute!  Let 

[Aunty  Evelyn  put  on  your  overshoes — Rob- 
bie, dear ! " 

"  Come  back  here,  young  man ! "  commanded 
Mr.  Hickey  in  a  voice  which  effectually  ar- 
rested the  wandering  attention  of  Master  Stan- 
ford. "  Here,  I'll  fix  'em  up.  If  I  can't,  I'm 
not  fit  to  put  through  another  tunnel!  Here 
you,  Miss  Flutterbudget ;  is  this  your  coat  ?  " 

Miss  Tripp  flew  to  the  rescue.  "  Oh,  thank 
you,  Mr.  Hickey,"  she  murmured,  flashing  a 
mirthful  glance  of  protest  at  the  engineer. 
"  But  to  array  four  small  children  for  out  of 


168       Those  Brewster  Children 

doors  on  a  winter  day  is  vastly  more  compli- 
cated than  digging  a  tunnel.  Wait,  Doris; 
you  haven't  your  mittens." 

They  were  all  ready  at  last,  and  Evelyn 
herded  them  carefully  out  into  the  back  yard 
and  shut  the  latticed  door  leading  to  the  street 
upon  them. 

"  Now  I  must  watch  them  every  minute  from 
the  library  window,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Hickey. 
"  You've  no  idea  what  astonishing  things 
they'll  think  of  and — do.  One  ought  to  have 
the  eyes  of  an  Argus  and  the  arms  of  a  Briar- 
eus  to  cope  successfully  with  Robert." 

"  Bright  boy — very,"  observed  Mr.  Hickey 
absent-mindedly.  "I — er — am  very  fond  of 
boys." 

"  Oh,  are  you  ?  "  asked  Evelyn  with  mild  sur- 
prise, as  she  craned  her  neck  to  look  out  of  the 
window.  "  I  hope  they  won't  make  their  snow- 
balls too  hard.  It  is  really  dangerous  when  the 
snow  is  soft." 

"  — Er — I  wish  you'd  stop  looking  out  of 
that  window,  Miss  Tripp  and— er — give  me 
your  attention  for  about  five  minutes,"  said 
Mr.  Hickey,  with  very  much  the  same  tone  and 
manner  he  would  have  employed  in  addressing 


Those  Brewster  Children        169 

his  stenographer.  He  told  himself  that  he  was 
perfectly  cool  and  collected,  but  unluckily  in 
his  efforts  to  visualise  his  inward  calm  he  suc- 
ceeded in  looking  particularly  stern  and  pro- 
fessional. "  I — er — called  on  a  little  matter  of 
business  this  afternoon,  Miss  Tripp,  and  I — to 
put  it  clearly  before  you — would  like  to  recall 
to  your  mind  the  day — something  like  a  month 
ago,  when  you — when  I — er — met  you  and 
asked  you  to  lunch  with  me.  You  may  recall 
the  fact?" 

Miss  Tripp  gazed  at  Mr.  Hickey  with  some 
astonishment.  Then  she  blushed,  wondering 
if  he  had  found  out  that  she  had  prevaricated 
in  the  matter  of  a  previous  engagement. 

"  I — remember ;  yes,"   she  murmured. 

"  It  was  a  great  disappointment  to  me  at  the 
time,"  he  went  on.  "  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you 

further.  I  wanted  to — er — tell  you "  He 

paused  and  stole  a  glance  at  the  pretty  worn 
profile  she  turned  toward  him,  as  she  looked  ap- 
prehensively out  of  the  window. 

"  The  children  are — playing  very  prettily  to- 
gether," she  said.  "And,  see,  the  sun  has 
come  out." 

"  You — er — have  known  me  a  long  time,"  he 


170       Those  Brewster  Children 

said  huskily.  "Once  you  laughed  at  me  be- 
cause I  was  homely  and — er — awkward,  and 
since  then " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  little  murmur  of 
protest.  "  I  was  hoping  you  had  forgotten 
that,"  she  said  softly. 

*'  I  have  never  forgotten  anything  that  you 
said  or  did,"  he  declared,  with  the  delightful 
though  sudden  conviction  that  this  was  strictly 
true.  "  It  really  is  singular,  when  you  come  to 
think  of  it;  but  it's  a  fact.  I  don't  know  as 
I  should  have  realised  it  though  if  I — if 
you " 

She  started  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry  of 
alarm.  "  Something  has  happened  to  Carroll ! " 
she  said.  "  I  must  go  out  and  see." 

He  followed  her  distracted  flight  with  the 
grim  resolve  not  to  be  balked  of  his  purpose. 

"  Oh !  what  is  it  ?  "  she  was  asking  wildly  of 
the  other  children,  who  huddled  crying  about 
the  small  figure  of  Carroll  which  was  flattened 
against  the  iron  fence,  emitting  strange  and 
dolorous  sounds  of  woe. 

"  Aw — I  tol'  Carroll  he  didn't  das'  to  put  his 
tongue  out  on  th'  iron  fence ;  an'  he  did  it ;  an' 
now  he's  stuck  to  it,  'n*  can't  get  aWay,"  ex- 


Those  Brewster  Children        171 

plained  Master  Stanford  with  scientific  accu- 
racy. "  I  don't  see  why ;  do  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  you  poor  darling!  What  shall  I  do; 
can't  you " 

"  Ah-a-a-a ! "  howled  the  victim,  writhing  in 
misery. 

"  Hold  on  there,  youngster ! "  shouted  Mr. 
Hickey,  whose  experienced  eye  had  taken  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance.  "  Wait  till  I  get  some 
hot  water ;  don't  move,  boys !  Don't  touch  him, 
Evelyn!" 

It  was  the  work  of  several  moments  to  suc- 
cessfully detach  the  rash  experimenter  from  his 
uncomfortable  proximity  to  the  iron  fence.  But 
Mr.  Hickey  accomplished  the  feat,  with  a  pa- 
tience and  firmness  which  won  for  him  the  loud 
encomiums  of  Mrs.  Stanford's  Irish  Annie,  who 
came  out  bare-armed  to  assist  in  the  operation. 

"  Oh,  you're  the  bad  boy  entirely ! "  she  said 
to  Robbie,  who  stared  open-mouthed  at  the 
scene  from  the  safe  vantage  ground  of  the 
back  stoop.  "  Many's  the  time  I've  towld  what 
would  happen  to  yez  if  you  put  yer  tongue  t' 
th'  fence  in  cowld  weather." 

"I  wanted  to  see  if  it  was  true,"  said  Mas- 
ter Stanford  coolly.  "  You  said  th'  was  a 


172        Those  Brewster  Children 

p'liceman  comin'  after  me,  an'  th'  wasn't,  when 
I  ate  the  frostin'  off  your  ol'  cake." 

"  If  your  mother  was  here  she'd  be  af ther 
takin'  th'  paddle  to  yez,"  said  Annie  wrath- 
fully.  "  I've  a  mind  to  do  it  meself." 

Master  Stanford  fled  to  the  safe  shelter  of 
the  library  where  Carroll,  ensconced  on  Mr. 
Hickey's  knee,  was  being  soothed  with  various 
emollients  and  lotions  at  the  hands  of  Miss 
Tripp. 

"  I  should  never  have  known  what  to  do,"  she 
said,  looking  up  from  her  ministrations  to  find 
Mr.  Hickey's  eyes  fixed  full  upon  her.  "  How 
could  you  think  so  quickly?  " 

"  Because  I  tried  it  myself  once  upon  a  time," 
said  Mr.  Hickey.  "  It's  about  the  only  way 
to  learn  things,"  he  added  somewhat  grimly. 
"But  I  wish  our  young  friend  had  taken  an- 
other day  for  improving  his  knowledge  on  the 
subject  of  .the  prehensile  powers  of  iron  when 
applied  to  a  moist  surface  on  a  cold  day." 

For  some  reason  or  other  he  felt  very  much 
neglected  and  correspondingly  out  of  temper 
as  Miss  Tripp  ministered  to  the  numerous 
wants  of  her  small  charges  during  the  half 
hour  that  followed.  To  be  sure  she  poured  him 


Those  Brewster  Children        173 

a  cup  of  tea  (which  he  detested)  and  pressed 
small  frosted  cakes  upon  him  with  the  sweetest 
of  abstracted  smiles. 

"  I  must  go  at  once,"  he  bethought  himself, 
as  he  refused  a  second  cup.  "  I — er — shall  be 
late  to  my  dinner."  But  he  lingered  gloomily 
while  she  cheered  the  afflicted  Carroll  with  warm 
milk  well  sweetened  with  sugar. 

"  You'll  find  some — some  feathers  in  a  box  in 
the  hall,"  he  informed  her,  when  he  finally  took 
his  leave.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I — er — 
regretted  exceedingly  that  I  had  injured  yours 
with  my  umbrella  on  the  day  we  were  to  have 
lunched  together  and — didn't." 

Miss  Tripp  took  the  cerise  plumes  out  of  their 
wrappings  and  examined  them  in  the  blissful 
security  of  her  own  room — this  after  the  Brew- 
ster children  had  gone  home  and  the  Stanford 
children  were  at  last  in  bed  and  safely  asleep. 

"  How — extraordinary !  "  she  murmured,  her 
cheeks  reflecting  palely  the  vivid  tints  of  the 
latest  importation  from  Paris. 


XVII 

HAVING  definitely  abandoned  the  unthinking, 
hit-or-miss  method  of  child  discipline  practised 
by  the  generality  of  parents,  Elizabeth  Brew- 
ster  and  her  husband  found  themselves  facing 
a  variety  of  problems.  To  be  exact,  there  were 
three  of  them ;  Carroll,  with  his  somewhat  timid 
and  yielding,  yet  too  self-conscious  nature; 
Doris,  hot-tempered,  generous  and  loving,  and 
baby  Richard,  who  already  exhibited  an  ada- 
mantine firmness  of  purpose,  which  a  careless 
observer  might  have  termed  stubbornness.  There 
was  another  questionable  issue  which  these  wide- 
awake young  parents  were  obliged  to  face,  and 
that  was  the  entirely  unconfessed  partiality 
which  Elizabeth  cherished  for  her  first-born 
son  and  the  equally  patent  yet  unacknowledged 
"  particular  affection "  Sam  felt  for  his  one 
small  daughter.  More  than  once  in  the  past 
the  two  had  found  themselves  at  the  point  of 
serious  disagreement  when  the  boy  and  girl 
had  come  into  collision;  Sam  hotly — too  hotly 
— upholding  the  cause  of  Doris,  while  Eliza- 
174 


Those  Brewster  Children        175 

beth  was  almost  tearfully  sure  that  her  son  had 
not  been  in  fault.  Neither  had  taken  the  pains 
to  trace  these  quite  human  and  natural  predi- 
lections to  their  source;  but  they  were  agreed 
in  thinking  the  outcome  unsafe.  They  deter- 
mined, therefore,  to  defer  to  the  other's  judg- 
ment in  those  instances  when  special  discipline 
appeared  to  be  demanded  by  either  child. 

All  this  by  way  of  prelude  to  a  certain  stormy 
evening  in  March  when  Sam  Brewster,  return- 
ing more  tired  than  usual  from  a  long  day  of 
hard  work  in  his  office,  found  his  Elizabeth  with 
reddened  eyelids  and  a  general  appearance  of 
carefully  subdued  emotion. 

"  Well !  I  say,"  he  began,  as  he  divested  him- 
self of  his  wet  coat  and  kicked  off  his  overshoes 
with  an  air  bordering  on  impatience ;  "  it's 
beastly  weather  outside;  hope  none  of  it's  got 
inside.  Where  are  the  kiddies?  And  what  is 
the  matter  with  the  lady  of  the  house  ?  " 

Elizabeth  plucked  up  a  small,  faint  smile 
which  she  bestowed  upon  the  questioner  with 
a  wifely  kiss. 

"  I've,  had  a  very  trying  time  with  Doris  to- 
day," she  said ;  "  but  I  didn't  mean  to  mention 
it  till  after  dinner." 


176        Those  Brewster  Children 

Sam  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  shall  at  least 
have  to  change  part  of  my  clothes,  my  dear," 
he  said  crisply.  "  I'll  hear  the  catalogue  of 
the  young  lady's  crimes  when  I'm  dry,  if  you 
don't  mind." 

The  dinner  was  excellent,  and  there  was  a 
salad  and  a  pudding  which  elicited  the  warm- 
est commendation  from  the  head  of  the  house. 
He  was  aware,  however,  of  an  unbending  at- 
titude of  mind  upon  the  part  of  Elizabeth  and 
an  unnatural  decorum  in  the  conduct  of  the 
children  which  somewhat  marred  the  general  en- 
joyment. Sam  eyed  his  small  daughter  quizzi- 
cally from  time  to  time,  as  she  sat  with  eyes 
bent  upon  her  plate. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  in  his  usual  half- 
joking  manner,  "I  hear  there  have  been  ruc- 
tions in  this  ranch  since  I  left  home  this 
morning.  What  have  you  been  doing,  Dorry, 
to  make  your  mother  look  like  the  old  lady 
who  makes  vinegar  for  a  living?  " 

The  little  girl  giggled  as  she  stole  a  glance 
at  her  mother's  face;  then  she  ran  quickly  to 
her  father's  side  and  nestled  her  hand  in  his. 
"  I'm  always  good  when  you're  here,  daddy," 
she  said  in  a  loud,  buzzing  whisper.  "  I  wish 


Those  Brewster  Children        177 

you  stayed   at   home   all   thj   time   'stead   of 
mother." 

Elizabeth  bit  her  lip  with  vexation,  and 
Sam  laughed  aloud,  his  eyes  filled  with  a  teas- 
ing light. 

"  That  appears  to  be  a  counter  indictment 
for  you,  Betty,"  he  said.  "  Or — we  might 
call  it  a  demurrer — eh?  Come,  tell  me  what's 
happened  to  disturb  the  family  peace.  I  see 
it's  broken  all  to  bits." 

Elizabeth  arose  with  unsmiling  dignity. 
"  Celia  would  like  to  clear  the  table,"  she 
said ;  "  I  think  we  had  better  go  into  the  sit- 
ting-room." 

She  did  not  offer  either  accusation  or  ex- 
planation after  they  were  all  seated  about  the 
blazing  wood  fire,  which  the  Brewsters  were 
agreed  in  terming  their  one  extravagance;  for 
a  few  moments  no  one  spoke. 

"  I  really  hate  to  go  into  this  matter  of 
naughty  deeds  just  now,"  began  Sam,  stretch- 
ing his  slippered  feet  to  the  warmth  with  an 
air  of  extreme  comfort.  "  Couldn't  we — er — 

quash  the  proceedings;  or See  here,  I'll 

tell  you;  suppose  we  issue  an  injunction  and 
bind  over  all  young  persons  in  this  house  to 


178       Those  Brewster  Children 

keep  the  peace.  Well,  now,  won't  that  do, 
Betty?" 

"  I'm  really  afraid  it  won't,  Sam,"  said 
Elizabeth  firmly.  "  I  didn't  punish  Doris  for 
what  she  did  this  afternoon.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  it  would  be  better  for  her  to  tell"  you  about 
it  herself.  Something  ought  to  be  done  to 
prevent  it  from  happening  again;  perhaps  you 
will  know  what  that  something  is." 

Her  face  was  grave,  and  she  did  not  choose  to 
meet  the  twinkle  in  her  husband's  eyes. 

He  lifted  his  daughter  to  his  knee.  "It's 
up  to  you,  Dorry,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  all  attention. 
Come,  out  with  it.  Tell  daddy  all  about  it." 

He  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over  her  mane 
of  silken  hair  and  bent  his  tall  head  to  look 
into  her  abashed  eyes. 

Thus  encouraged  the  little  girl  nestled  back 
into  the  circle  of  the  strong  arms  which  held 
her,  dimpling  with  anticipated  triumph. 

"  I  was  playin'  mother,"  she  began,  "  an' 
Carroll  was  my  husban',  an'  Baby  Dick  was 
my  child.  An' — an'  Dick  was  naughty.  He 
wouldn't  mind  me  when  I  told  him  to  stop 
playin'  with  his  cars  an'  come  to  mother.  I 
spoke  real  kind  an'  gentle,  too :  '  Put  down 


Those  Brewster  Children        179 

your  train  an'  come  to  mother,  darlin','  I  said. 
But  he  jus*  wouldn't,  daddy.  He  said,  'No;  I 
won't!'  jus'  like  that  he  said." 

"  Hum ! "  commented  her  father.  "  And 
what  did  you  do  then?  " 

"Well,  you  see,  daddy,  I  was  p'tendin'  I 
was  Mrs.  Stanford;  so  'course  I  was  'bilged  to 
punish  Dick  for  not  mindin'.  I  got  mother's 
butter-paddle  an'  I  whipped  him  real  hard,  an' 
I  said  '  it  hurts  mother  more  'n  it  hurts  you, 
darlin' ! '  Robbie  says  that's  what  his  mother 
says  when  she  whips  him.  He  says  he  don't 
b'lieve  it.  But  Dick  wasn't  good  after  I 
whipped  him.  He  jus'  turned  'round  an' 
pulled  my  hair  an'  screamed — with  both  han's 
he  pulled  it  an'  jerked  it;  then  I — I  bit  him." 

"You— what,  Doris?" 

"  I  bit  him,  jus'  to  make  him  let  go.  An* — 
an'  he  was  softer'n  I  thought  he  was.  I  never 
knew  such  a  soft  baby." 

The  little  girl  hung  her  head  before  her 
father's  stern  look;  her  voice  threatened  to 
break  in  a  sob.  "I  didn't  think — Dick — was 
— so — so  full  of — juice,"  she  quavered. 

"Did  you  really  bite  your  dear  little  brother 
till  the  blood  came,  Doris  ?  I  can't  believe  it !  " 


180       Those  Brewster  Children 

Sam  glanced  inquiringly  at  his  wife;  but  she 
held  her  peace,  her  eyes  drooped  upon  the 
sewing  in  her  hands. 

"  I— I  didn't  b'lieve  it  either— at  first,"  Doris 
said  quickly.  "  I  thought  it  was  jus' — red 
paint." 

"  Why,  Doris  Brewster ! "  piped  up  Carroll, 
unable  to  contain  himself  longer ;  "  that's  a 
reg'larfib!" 

"Had  Dick  been  playing  with  red  paint?" 
interrogated  Sam  gravely,  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  culprit  who  was  beginning  to  fidget  un- 
easily in  his  arms. 

"N-o,  daddy,"  confessed  the  child  in  a  whis- 
per. 

Her  father  considered  her  answer  in  silence 
for  a  moment  or  two;  then  he  looked  over  at 
his  wife. 

"  Elizabeth,"  he  said.  "  Isn't  it  time  for  these 
young  persons  to  go  to  bed?" 

She  glanced  up  at  the  clock.  "  I  think  it  is, 
dear,"  she  replied.  "But " 

He  checked  her  with  a  quick  look.  "  I  shall 
have  to  think  this  over,"  he  said,  setting  Doris 
upon  her  feet.  Then  he  put  his  arm  about  his 
son  and  kissed  him.  "  Good-night,  Carroll." 


Those  Brewster  Children        181 

Doris,  dimpling  and  rosy,  lifted  her  eager 
little  face  to  her  father's;  but  he  deliberately 
put  her  aside. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me,  too,  daddy  ?  " 
wailed  the  child,  in  a  sudden  passion  of  affec- 
tion and  something  akin  to  fear.  "  I  love  you, 
daddy!" 

"  I'm  a  little  afraid  of  you,  Dorry,"  her 
father  said  gravely.  "I'm  not  sure  that  you 
are  entirely  safe  to — kiss." 

"  But  I  wouldn't  bite  you,  daddy !  I 
wouldn't!  " 

"Why  wouldn't  you?" 

"  Because  I — because  I  love  you." 

"  I  always  supposed  you  loved  Baby  Dick," 
said  her  father,  turning  away  from  the  piteous, 
grieved  look  in  her  eyes ;  "  but  it  seems  I  was 
mistaken." 

"  But,  daddy,  I  do !  I  do  love  Dick !  I  love 
him  more'n  a  million,  an* " 

"  Good-night,  Doris."  There  was  stern  final- 
ity in  Sam's  voice,  though  his  eyes  were  wet. 

Elizabeth  led  the  two  children  away,  Doris 
shaken  with  sobs  and  Carroll  casting  back- 
ward glances  of  troubled  awe  at  his  father 
who  continued  to  look  steadily  into  the  fire. 


182       Those  Brewster  Children 

He  still  sat  in  his  big  chair,  his  face  more 
sober  and  thoughtful  than  its  wont,  when  his 
wife  returned. 

"I'm.  afraid  Doris  will  cry  herself  to  sleep 
to-night,"  she  said  doubtfully. 

He  made  no  reply. 

"You  wouldn't  like  to  go  up  and  kiss  her 
good-night,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Better  one  night  than  a  hundred,"  he  said, 
ignoring  her  suggestion.  Then  he  bent  forward 
and  poked  the  fire  with  unnecessary  violence. 
"  Poor  little  girl,"  he  murmured. 

A  light  broke  over  her  face.  "Do  you  think 
this  is  the  natural  penalty?"  she  asked. 

A  wailing  sob  floated  down  to  them  from 
above  in  the  silence  that  followed  her  question. 

"  It  was,  perhaps,  one  of  the  penalties  sure 
to  follow  a  similar  line  of  conduct,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  She'll  remember  it,  you'll  find,  bet- 
ter than  one  of  Mrs.  Stanford's  whippings." 

He  turned  to  look  at  his  wife  with  a  smile. 
"  *  It  hurts  mother  more  than  it  does  you, 
darling ! '  "  he  quoted  with  a  grimace.  "  I 
thought  that  particular  sort  of  cant  was  out 
of  date.  An  irascible  person  who  flies  into  a 
rage  and  frankly  administers  punishment  on 


"She'll  remember  it,  you'll  find,  better  than  one 
of  Mrs.   Stanford's  whippings" 


Those  Brewster  Children        183 

the  spot  I  can  understand.  I  used  to  get  a 
thrashing  of  that  sort  about  once  in  so  often 
from  Aunt  Julia ;  and  I  don't  remember  hating 
her  for  it.  Where  did  Marian  dig  up  such 
rank  nonsense?  " 

"  At  her  '  Mothers'  Club,'  I  suppose,"  Eliza- 
beth told  him  with  a  disdainful  curl  of  her 
pretty  lips.  "  I  went  once  and  heard  a  woman 
say  that  she  always  prayed  with  her  child  first 
and  whipped  him  severely  afterward." 

"Beastly  cant!"  groaned  Sam  disgustedly. 
"  I'm  glad  you  don't  go  in  for  that  sort  of 
thing,  Betty." 

"  It  would  drive  me  to  almost  anything,  if  I 
were  a  child  and  had  to  endure  it,"  Elizabeth 
said  positively. 

Both  parents  were  silent  for  a  long  minute, 
and  both  appeared  to  be  listening  for  the 
sound  of  muffled  sobbing  from  above  stairs. 

"  You  —  you'll  forgive  her  —  to-morrow ; 
won't  you,  Sam  ?  "  whiskered  Elizabeth. 

"  Forgive  her?  "  he  echoed.  "  You  know  I'm 
not  really  angry  with  her,  Betty;  but  if  we 
can  teach  our  small  daughter  through  her  af- 
fections to  control  her  passions,  can't  you  see 
what  it  will  do  for  the  child?  Perhaps,"  he 


184        Those  Brewster  Children 

added  under  his  breath,  "  that  is  what — God 
— does  with  us.  Sometimes — we  are  allowed 
to  suffer.  I  have  been,  and — I  know  I  have 
profited  by  it." 

Sam  Brewster  was  not  one  of  those  who  talk 
over-familiarly  of  their  Maker.  A  word  like 
this  meant  that  he  was  profoundly  moved. 
Elizabeth's  eyes  dwelt  on  her  husband  with  a 
trust  and  affection  which  spoke  louder  than 
words.  After  a  while  she  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  If  you  would  always  advise  me  with  the 
children,"  she  murmured,  "I'm  sure  we  could 
— help  them  to  be  good." 

"That  is  it,  Betty,"  he  said,  meeting  her 
misty  look  with  a  smile.  "  We  cannot  force 
our  children  into  goodness,  or  torture  them 
into  wisdom — even  if  we  can  compel  them  to 
a  show  of  submission  which  they  would  make 
haste  to  throw  off  when  they  are  grown.  But 
we  can  help  them  to  choose  the  good,  now  and 
as  long  as  we  live.  And  we'll  do  it,  little 
mother;  for  I'm  not  going  to  shirk  my  part 
of  it  in  the  future.  As  you  said  long  ago,  it's 
the  most  important  thing  in  the  world  for  us 
to  do  just  now." 


XVIII 

PERHAPS  because  she  had  cried  herself  to  sleep 
the  night  before,  Doris  awakened  late  the  next 
morning  to  find  Carroll  at  her  bedside  com- 
pletely dressed  and  with  the  shining  morning 
face  which  follows  prolonged  scrubbing  with 
soap  and  water. 

"Has  daddy  gone?"  she  inquired  anxiously, 
as  she  rubbed  the  dreams  out  of  her  brown 
eyes. 

"  Not  yet,  sleepy-head,"  Carroll  informed 
her ;  "  but  he's  puttin'  on  his  overcoat  this 
minute  an*  kissin'  mother  good-bye.  I  got  up 
early,"  he  added  complacently,  "  an'  dressed 
myself  all  by  my  lone  an'  had  my  breakfas' 
with  daddy.  I'm  goin'  to  do  it  every  mornin' 
after  this.  He  likes  to  have  me." 

Sam  Brewster,  in  the  act  of  bestowing  a  final 
hasty  kiss  upon  his  Elizabeth's  flushed  cheek, 
was  startled  by  the  sight  of  a  small  figure  in 
white  with  a  cloud  of  bright  hair  which  flew 
down  the  stairs  and  into  his  arms  with  a  loud 
wail  of  protest. 

185 


186       Those  Brewster  Children 

"  Kiss  me  good-bye,  too,  daddy !    Kiss  me !  '* 

Sam  caught  the  little  warm,  throbbing  body 
and  held  it  close.  "  Father's  baby  daughter," 
he  whispered,  bending  his  head  to  her  pink 
ear.  "  She  shall  kiss  her  daddy  good-bye." 

"  I'm  goin'  to  be  jus'  as  good  to-day,  daddy ; 
I'm  goin'  to  be  gooder  'an  Carroll.  'N' — 'n* 
I'll  never,  never  bite  anybody  again;  never  in 
my  world.  I  promise!" 

Sam  gazed  fondly  down  at  the  sparkling 
little  face  against  his  breast.  "  That's  daddy's 
good  girl ! "  he  exclaimed  heartily.  "  Do  you 
hear  that,  mother?  " 

"Yes;  I  hear,"  Elizabeth  {said  doubtfully. 
"I'm  sure  I  hope  Doris  will  remember.  Some- 
times you  forget  so  quickly,  dear." 

"  We  all  do  that,  Betty,"  Sam  said  gravely, 
as  he  surrendered  the  child  to  her  mother. 

His  face  was  thoughtful  as  he  hurried  away 
down  the  street  to  catch  his  car.  To  his  sur- 
prise his  friend  Stanford  swung  himself  aboard 
at  the  next  corner. 

"Why,  hello,  Stanford,"  he  looked  up  from 
a  hurried  perusal  of  his  paper  to  say.  "  I 
didn't  know  you  were  home.  When  did  you 
come?  " 


Those  Brewster  Children        187, 

"  Last  night,"  said  the  other,  dropping  into 
a  seat  beside  his  neighbour.  "  The  fact  is, 
Marian  couldn't  stand  it  to  be  away  from  the 
children  another  day.  She  was  sure  Rob 
would  burn  the  house  down  with  everything  in 
it,  including  the  baby;  or  that  some  equally 
heartrending  thing  would  happen — it  was  a 
fresh  one  every  day.  It  got  on  her  nerves,  a3 
she  puts  it ;  and  finally  on  mine ;  so  we  gave  up 
our  trip  to  Santa  Barbara  and  came  home 
literally  post-haste.  I  was  sorry,  for  I  don't 
know  when  we  shall  get  another  such  chance. 
But  you  know  how  it  is,  Brewster;  a  woman 
won't  listen  to  rhyme  or  reason  where  her 
children  are  concerned." 

"  I  understand,"  Sam  agreed  briefly ;  "  my 
wife  is  the  same  way.  But  of  course  you 
found  everything  in  good  order — eh?  Miss 
Tripp  appeared  to  be  all  devotion  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  my  wife  kept  a  motherly  eye  on 
them." 

"  Oh,  everything  was  all  right,  of  course ; 
just  as  I  told  Marian  it  would  be:  the  chil- 
dren were  in  bed  and  asleep  and  everything 
about  the  place  in  perfect  trim.  I'm  sure 
we're  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you  and 


188       Those  Brewster  Children 

Mrs.  Brewster;  Marian  will  tell  you  so.  Er — 
by  the  way,  our  mutual  friend  Hickey  ap- 
peared to  be  calling  upon  Miss  Tripp  when  we 
arrived,  and  Marian  insists  that  we  inter- 
rupted some  sort  of  important  interview  by 
our  untimely  appearance.  She  said  she  felt  it 
in  the  air.  I  laughed  at  her.  Of  course  I 
know  as  well  as  you  do  that  Old  Ironsides  isn't 
matrimonially  inclined,  and  while  Miss  Tripp 
may  be  an  excellent  nurse  and  housekeeper, 
she  isn't  exactly " 

"  H'm !  "  commented  Sam  non-committally, 
"  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes,  you  know. 
Hickey's  a  queer  chap;  queer  as  Dick's  hat- 
band; but  a  good  sort — an  all-round,  square 
good  fellow." 

"  Sure !  I  believe  you.  But  I  had  to  laugh 
at  my  boy  Robert.  He's  all  ears,  and  smarter 
than  a  steel  trap.  He  overheard  something  of 
what  my  wife  was  saying  to  me.  '  Mr. 
Hickey  doesn't  come  to  see  Miss  Tripp,'  he 
puts  in,  as  large  as  life ;  *  he  comes  to  see  me 
an'  baby,  'specially  me;  he  comes  most  every 
day,  an'  he  brings  us  candy  an'  oranges.'  Isn't 
that  rather  singular — eh?  " 

"Not    at    all,"    Sam    assured    him    warmly; 


Those  Brewster  Children        189 

'*  Hickey  is  very  fond  of  children,  always  has 
been.  He's  always  dropping  in  to  see  Carroll 
and  Doris.  Um — did  you  see  this  account  of 
Judge  Lindsay's  doings  in  his  children's  court? 
I've  come  across  a  number  of  articles  about 
his  work  lately.  Seems  to  me  it's  mighty  sug- 
gestive, the  way  he's  gone  to  work  to  make 
good  citizens  out  of  material  which  would  oth- 
erwise fill  the  state  prisons;  and  it's  all  done 
through  some  sort  of  moral  suasion  apparently. 
He  gets  into  sympathy  with  those  poor  little 
chaps ;  climbs  down  to  their1,  level,  somehow 
or  other;  sees  things  through  their  eyes;  gets 
their  point  of  view,  and  then  deals  with  them 
as  man  to  man — or  boy  to  boy.  I  believe  he's 
got  the  matter  of  discipline — all  sorts  of  dis- 
cipline— cinched.  We're  going  to  try  some  of 
his  methods  with  our  children." 

Young  Stanford  stared  for  a  moment  at  his 
neighbour,  then  he  threw  back  his  head  and 
chuckled. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Brewster,"  he  exclaimed ; 
"  but  it  struck  me  as  being — er — a  decidedly 
original  idea,  that  of  establishing  a  children's 
court  in  your  own  home.  Perhaps  it  was  Mrs. 
Brewster's  notion;  Marian  tells  me  she's  very 


190        Those  Brewster  Children 

— er — advanced,  when  it  comes  to  disciplining 
the  children." 

Sam  Brewster's  blue  eyes  rested  steadily  upon 
his  neighbour. 

"  Singular  as  the  statement  may  sound,  I'm 
prepared  to  say  that  I'm  somewhat  interested 
in  my  children's  upbringing  on  my  own  ac- 
count," he  said  coolly.  "  My  wife  has  notions, 
as  you  call  them,  and  one  of  them  is  that  a 
father  has  quite  as  much  responsibility  in  the 
training  of  the  children  as  the  mother.  I  be- 
lieve she's  right." 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  it  that  way,"  drawled 
Stanford.  "  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  leave  the 
kids  to  Marian  while  they're  small;  when 
they're  too  big  for  her  to  handle  I'll  take  'em 
in  hand.  They'll  obey  me,  you'd  better  be- 
lieve, from  the  word  go.  I  think  as  my  father 
did,  that  a  child  ought  to  mind  as  though  he 
were  fired  out  of  a  gun." 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  child  is  a  reasonable  be- 
ing, and  has  a  reasoning  being's  right  to  un- 
derstand something  of  the  whys  and  where- 
fores of  his  obedience,"  protested  Sam,  vaguely 
aware  that  he  was  quoting  the  opinions  of 
someone  else.  "  Besides  that,  don't  they  tell 


Those  Brewster  Children        191 

us  a  child's  character  is  pretty  well  formed  by 
the  time  he  is  seven  ?  " 

"Bosh!"  exploded  Stanford.  "I  wouldn't 
give  a  brass  nickel  for  all  the  theories  you  can 
bundle  together.  There  were  no  sort  of  explana- 
tions or  mollycoddling  coming  to  me,  when  I 
was  a  kid.  It  was  *  do  this,  sir ' ;  or  *  don't 
do  the  other.'  I  can  tell  you,  I  walked  a  chalk- 
line  till  I  was  sixteen.  Why,  gracious!  if  I'd 
attempted  to  argue  and  talk  back  to  my  gov- 
ernor the  way  your  boy  talks  to  you — you 
needn't  deny  it,  for  I've  heard  him  myself — I'd 
have  stood  up  to  eat  for  a  week.  I've  done  it 
more  than  once  for  simply  looking  cross-eyed, 
and  I  can  tell  you  it  did  me  good." 

Sam  Brewster  eyed  his  companion  with  grave 
interest;  there  was  no  animosity  in  his  tone 
and  merely  a  friendly  interest  in  his  face  as 
he  inquired: 

"  You  walked  a  chalk-line  till  you  were  six- 
teen, you  say;  what  did  you  do  then?" 

Young  Stanford's  handsome  dark  face  red- 
dened slightly. 

"  I — er — well,  you  see  I  got  red-hot  at  the 
pater  one  day  because  he — you  see  I'd  grown 
pretty  fast  and  was  as  tall  as  he  was,  and 


192        Those  Brewster  Children 

• — er — I  balked;  thought  I  was  too  big  to 
be  thrashed,  as  I  deserved.  Why,  you 
know  what  I  did  as  well  as  I  do,  Sam.  I've 
always  been  ashamed  of  it,  of  course,  and  of 
the  trouble  I  made  my  mother.  She  was  and 
is  the  best  mother  ever,  mild  and  sweet-tem- 
pered ;  but  she  couldn't  handle  me.  Why,  man, 
I  was  a  holy  terror,  and  my  boy  Rob  is  ex- 
actly like  me."  He  spoke  complacently,  al- 
most triumphantly.  "I'll  take  it  out  of  him, 
though.  Watch  me ! " 

"Then  you  don't  think  we  could  both  learn 
a  thing  or  two  from  Judge  Lindsay  and  other 
specialists  about  the  way  to  manage  and  bring 
up  our  boys  ?  "  persisted  Sam,  a  slow  twinkle 
dawning  in  his  blue  eyes.  "  We  know  it  all — 
eh  ?  and  don't  require  any  enlightenment  ?  " 

"  I  know  enough  to  bring  up  my  own  boy,  I 
should  hope,"  responded  Stanford,  with  heat. 
"  If  he  cuts  up  the  way  I  did,  I'll  take  it  out 
of  his  young  hide  some  day;  that's  a  sure 
proposition." 

"  And  then  possibly,  since  he's  so  much  like 
his  father,  he  might  balk — when  he  gets  tall 
enough — and  he  might  not — come  back  in  three 
days,  the  way  you  did.  Pardon  me,  old  man, 


Those  Brewster  Children        193 

for  speaking  so  plainly;  but  as  long  as  our 
children  play  together  and  go  to  school  to- 
gether, your  business  and  mine  are  one  when 
it  comes  to  their  training.  And  if  half  the 
rich  men  in  the  country  can  afford  to  spend 
most  of  their  time  and  millions  of  their  dol- 
lars in  improving  the  horses,  cattle,  pigs  and 
poultry  of  the  country,  you  and  I  won't  be 
exactly  wasting  our  time  if  we  discuss  child 
improvement  ocasionally." 

"That's  where  you're  off,  Brewster;  the  dis- 
cipline of  a  man's  own  children  is  a  strictly 
private  and  personal  matter.  You'll  excuse 
me  if  I  say  just  what  I  think,  and  that  is  that 
the  methods  I  adopt  with  my  boy  are  none  of 
your  or  any  man's  business." 

"And  I'm  obliged  to  differ  with  you  there; 
the  way  you  bring  up  your  boy  is  not  only 
my  business  but  everybody's  business.  It  con- 
cerns the  neighbourhood,  the  state,  the  nation 
and  the  world." 

"  Now  you're  ranting,  my  boy,  and  I  can't 
listen  to  you.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do; 
I'll  tell  Mrs.  Stanford  to  get  us  both  invi- 
tations to  attend  the  next  of  her  '  mother's 
meetings.'  I'll  go,  if  you  will,  and  we'll  hold 


194        Those  Brewster  Children 

forth  on  our  respective  ideas  at  length.  How 
does  that  strike  you  ?  " 

"As  an  eminently  sensible  and  sane  propo- 
sition," Sam  said  coolly,  as  he  rose  to  leave  the 
car.  "A  parent's  club — eh?  A  capital  idea; 
well  worth  working  up.  I'll  see  you  later  with 
regard  to  it." 

Stanford  grinned  derisively  as  he  buried 
himself  in  the  pages  of  his  newspaper.  "  Brew- 
ster's  getting  to  be  a  bally  crank,"  he  told 
himself.  Then  his  eye  fastened  upon  a  para- 
graph heading  with  a  reminiscent  thrill.  "  Boy 
of  fifteen  runs  away  from  home  in  company 
with  a  neighbour's  son,  after  a  disagreement 
with  his  father !  " 

His  rapid  eye  took  in  the  details,  meagre 
and  commonplace,  of  the  missing  lads  and  their 
home-life. 

"  Young  rascals ! "  he  muttered,  and  passed 
on  to  the  political  situation  in  which  he  was 
deeply  interested.  Curiously  enough,  though, 
that  paragraph  concerning  the  runaway  boys 
recurred  to  his  mind  more  than  once  during  the 
day,  bringing  with  it  an  unwontedly  poignant 
recollection  of  his  own  headlong  flight  and 
ignominious  home-coming,  foot-sore  and  hun- 


Those  Brewster  Children        195 

gry  after  three  days  of  wretched  wandering. 
He  had  never  forgotten  the  experience  and 
never  would.  It  had  done  him  a  world  of 
good,  he  had  since  declared  stoutly.  But  he 
shivered  at  the  thought  of  his  own  son  alone 
and  hungry  in  the  streets  of  a  great  city. 


XIX 

ELIZABETH  was  quite  as  busy  as  usual  looking 
after  the  interests  of  her  small  kingdom  when 
Evelyn  Tripp  called  that  same  morning. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said,  "  to  say  good-bye." 
Then  in  answer  to  Elizabeth's  look  of  surprised 
enquiry,  "  The  Stanfords  came  home  quite 
unexpectedly  last  evening,  so  I  shall  return  to 
Dorchester  this  afternoon.  Mother  has  al- 
ready gone;  I've  just  been  to  the  train  with 
her." 

Elizabeth  surveyed  her  friend  dubiously. 
"  Perhaps  you  are  not  altogether  sorry  on  the 
whole,"  she  said,  "  though  the  children  have 
behaved  surprisingly  well — for  them." 

"The  baby  is  a  dear,"  agreed  Miss  Tripp 
warmly ;  "  but  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  succeed  very 
well  with  Robert.  It  seems  to  me  the  child's 
finer  feelings  have  been  blunted  someway. 
When  I  spoke  seriously  to  him  about  his  un- 
kindness  to  Carroll  the  other  day,  he  made  up 
a  face  at  me.  'You  can't  whip  me,5  he  said, 
'  'cause  you  aren't  my  mother.5 
196 


Those  Brewster  Children        197 

" '  Indeed  I  could  whip,  or  hurt  you  in  some 
other  way,  if  I  chase,'  I  told  him,  *  and  if  you 
were  a  stupid  little  donkey  who  wouldn't  go, 
or  a  dog  who  couldn't  be  made  to  obey,  I 
should  certainly  feel  like  switching  you;  but 
you  are  a  boy,  and  you  are  fast  growing  to  be 
a  man.  I  am  afraid,  though,  that  you  are  not 
growing  to  be  a  gentleman.' 

" '  I  guess  I'm  a  gentleman,  too,'  he  said 
rudely.  'My  grandfather's  a  rich  man,  an' 
we're  goin'  to  have  all  his  money  when  he  dies. 
We  ain't  poor  like  you.' ' 

"  Shocking !  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth ;  "  what 
did  you  say  to  the  child?" 

"  I  explained  to  him  what  a  gentle-man  really 
was;  then  I  told  him  about  the  knights  of  the 
Round  Table.  He  is  not  really  a  bad  child, 

Elizabeth;  but  he  will  be,  if I  wonder  if 

I  might  venture  to  talk  plainly  to  his  mother?  " 

"  You  may  talk  and  she  will  listen,  quite  with- 
out impatience,"  Elizabeth  said,  with  a  shrug 
of  her  shoulders.  "  But  Marian  is  somewhat — 
opinionated,  to  put  it  mildly,  and  she  is  very, 
very  sure  that  her  own  way  is  best.  So  I'm 
afraid  it  wouldn't  do  any  good." 

She  smiled  speculatively  as  she  looked  at  her 


198        Those  Brewster  Children 

friend.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Evelyn  was  loot- 
ing particularly  young  and  pretty.  There  was 
a  faint  flush  of  colour  in  her  pale  cheeks  and 
her  eyes  shone  girlishly  bright  under  their  cur- 
tain of  thick  brown  lashes.  A  sudden  thought 
crossed  Elizabeth's  mind.  And  without  paus- 
ing to  think,  she  put  it  into  words. 

"  Evelyn,"  she  began,  her  own  cheeks  glow- 
ing, "  I  want  you  to  stay  with  us  over  night ; 
I  really  can't  let  you  go  off  so  suddenly,  with- 
out saying  good-bye  to — to  Sam,  or — any- 
body," she  finished  lamely.  "  You  must  stay 
to  dinner,  anyway;  I  insist  upon  that  much, 
and  I  will  send  you  to  the  station  in  a  cab." 

Evelyn  shook  her  head.  "It  is  very  good  of 
you,  Betty,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  really  must  go 
this  afternoon.  Mother  will  expect  me." 

"  Does — Mr.  Hickey  know  you  are  going?  " 
'demanded  Elizabeth,  abandoning  her  feeble  ef- 
forts at  finesse. 

The  faint  colour  in  Evelyn's  cheeks  deepened 
to  a  painful  scarlet.  She  met  Elizabeth's 
questioning  gaze  bravely. 

"No— o,"   she  hesitated;  "but »      . 

She  paused,  apparently  to  straighten  out  with 
care  the  fingers  of  her  shabby  little  gloves ;  then 


Those  Brewster  Children       199 

she  looked  up,  a  spark  of  defiance  in  her  blue 
eyes. 

"  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  "  I  think  I  ought  to 
tell  you  that  Mr.  Hickey  has  asked  me  to 
marry  him;  but  I " 

"Oh,  Evelyn!     How  glad  I  am!" 

"  I  refused  him,"  said  Miss  Tripp  concisely. 

"  Refused  him !  but  why  ?  Sam  thinks  him 
one  of  the  finest  men  he  knows,  kind,  good  as 
gold,  and  very  successful  in  his  profession. 
You  would  be  so  comfortable,  Evelyn,  and  all 
your  problems  solved." 

Miss  Tripp  arose.  She  was  looking  both  de- 
fiant and  unhappy  now,  but  prettier  withal 
than  Elizabeth  had  ever  seen  her. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  comfortable,  as  you  call 
it,  Betty,"  she  said  passionately.  "  I — I  want 
— to  be  loved.  If  he  had  even  pretended  to — 
like  me,  even  a  little.  But  I — I  had  told  him  all 
about  my  perplexities,  I'm  sure  I  can't  imagine 
why — except  that  I  pined  for  something — » 
sympathy,  I  thought  it  was,  and  he — offered 
me — money.  Think  of  it,  Elizabeth!  And 
when  I  refused,  he — offered  to  marry  me.  He 
said  he  could  make  me — comfortable ! " 

Her  voice  choked  a  little  over  the  last  word. 


200       Those  Brewster  Children 

"'Of  course,"  she  went  on,  "I  know  I'm  not 
young  and  pretty  any  more;  but — but  I — 
couldn't  marry  a  man  who  was  just  sorry  for 
me,  as  one  would  be  sorry  for  a  forlorn,  lost 
Id-kitten ! " 

"  He  does  love  you,  Evelyn ;  I'm  sure  he 
does,"  Elizabeth  said  convincingly.  "  Only  he 
— doesn't  know  how  to  say  so.  If  I  could 
only » 

Miss  Tripp  looked  up  out  of  the  damp  folds 
of  her  handkerchief. 

"  If  you  should  repeat  to  Mr.  Hickey  any- 
thing I  have  told  you  in  confidence,  Elizabeth, 
I  think  I  should  die  of  shame,"  she  quavered. 
"  Promise  me — promise  me  you  won't  speak  of 
it  to  anyone!" 

Elizabeth  promised  at  once,  with  an  inward 
reservation  in  favour  of  Sam,  who  could,  she 
was  sure,  bring  order  out  of  this  sudden  and 
unexpected  chaos  in  her  friend's  affairs. 

"  I  am  positive  that  you  are  mistaken,  Eve- 
lyn," she  repeated,  as  she  embraced  and  kissed 
her  friend  at  parting.  "I  wish  you  would 
change  your  mind." 

But  Evelyn  shook  her  head  with  the  gentle 
obstinacy  which  Elizabeth  remembered  of  old. 


Those  Brewster  Children        201 

'*  I  seldom  change  my  mind  about  anything," 
she  said ;  "  and  in  this  case  I  simply  couldn't. 
Good-bye  dear,  dear  Betty;  and  thank  you  a 
thousand  times  for  all  your  kindness  to  me." 

She  turned  to  wave  a  slim  hand  to  Eliza- 
beth, who  stood  watching  her  departure  with 
a  curious  mingling  of  exasperation  and  regret. 

A  whiff  of  familiar  perfume  greeted  her  upon 
re-entering  the  sitting-room  and  her  eyes  fell  at 
once  upon  Evelyn's  muff,  which  she  had  de- 
posited upon  the  floor  beside  her  chair  and 
quite  evidently  forgotten.  It  was  a  handsome 
muff  of  dark  mink,  a  relic  of  Evelyn's  more 
fortunate  days.  Elizabeth  stood  caressing  it 
absent-mindedly,  wondering  how  she  could  best 
restore  it  to  its  owner  without  vexatious  delay, 
when  her  eyes  fell  upon  Carroll  and  Doris 
coming  in  at  the  front  gate  with  joyous  hops, 
skips  and  jumps  indicative  of  the  rapture  of 
release  from  school. 

"  Here,  dears !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  Aunty  Eve- 
lyn has  just  gone,  and  she  has  left  her  muff; 
take  it  and  run  after  her;  then  come  directly 
home.  Your  lunch  will  be  ready  in  fifteen 
minutes." 


XX 

ALL  that  Evelyn  Tripp  had  said  to  Elizabeth 
was  entirely  true ;  her  feelings  had  been  hurt — 
outraged,  she  again  assured  herself,  as  she 
hurried  away,  her  eyes  blurred  with  tears  of 
anger  and  self-pity.  Yet  deep  down  in  her 
heart  she  felt  sure  that  George  Hickey  loved 
her  for  herself  alone,  and  that  all  was  not  over 
between  them.  She  had  refused  him,  to  be  sure, 
and  in  no  uncertain  terms ;  but  that  he  was  not 
a  man  to  be  daunted  by  difficulties,  she  remem- 
bered with  a  little  thrill  of  satisfaction.  All 
had  not  been  said  when  their  interview  was 
terminated  by  the  unlooked-for  arrival  of  the 
Stanfords ;  and  he  had  said  at  parting,  "  I 
must  see  you  again — soon.  I  wish  to — ex- 
plain. I  will  come  to-morrow." 

He  would  come ;  she  was  sure  of  it,  and  as  she 
pictured  his  vexed  astonishment  at  finding  her 
already  gone,  her  eyes  filled  with  fresh  tears. 
"He  doesn't  even  know  my  Dorchester  ad- 

902 


Those  Brewster  Children        203 

dress,"  she  murmured  with  inconsistent  regret. 
She  was  so  absorbed  in  her  thoughts  that  she 
did  not  hear  a  masterful  step  on  the  sidewalk 
behind  her;  but  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  she 
glanced  up  without  the  least  surprise.  It  ap- 
peared to  Evelyn  that  Mr.  Hickey's  presence  at 
that  particular  instant  was  in  full  accord  with 
the  verities. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  leaving  early," 
he  said  directly,  his  eyes  searching  her  face 
with  an  open  anxiety  that  filled  her  with  a 
warm  delight.  "  I — er — found  that  I  could 
not  apply  myself  to  business  as  I  should  this 
morning,  so  I  thought  best  to — er — see  you 
without  delay." 

Evelyn's  head  dropped;  a  faint  smile  flitted 
about  her  lips. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  just  leaving  this  afternoon," 
she  said,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  a  little  in 
spite  of  her  efforts  to  preserve  an  easy  society 
manner. 

"  And  you  were  going  without — letting  me 
know,"  said  Mr.  Hickey,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  derives  an  unpleasant  deduction  from  an 
undeniable  fact.  He  looked  down  at  her  sud- 
denly. "Did  you,  or  did  you  not  intend  giv- 


204        Those  Brewster  Children 

ing  me  the  chance  to — er — continue  our  con- 
versation of  last  evening?  "  he  asked  with  de- 
lightful sternness. 

She  was  sure  now  that  he  loved  her;  but  her 
day  had  been  long  in  coming  and  she  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  enjoy  it  slowly, 
lingeringly,  as  one  tastes  an  anticipated 
feast. 

"  I  thought,"  she  murmured  indistinctly, 
"  that  there  was  nothing  more  to — say."  She 
was  deliciously  frightened  by  the  look  that 
came  into  his  deep-set  eyes. 

"I  asked  you  to  marry  me,"  he  said  deliber- 
ately, "  and  you — refused.  I  want  to  know 
your  reasons.  I  must  know  them.  I  am  not  in 
the  habit  of  giving  up  what  I  want,  easily,"  he 
went  on,  his  brows  meeting  in  a  short-sighted 
frown,  which  raised  Evelyn  to  the  seventh 
heaven  of  anticipated  bliss.  "  I've  always  got- 
ten what  I  wanted — sooner  or  later.  I  want 
— you,  Evelyn,  and — and  it's  getting  late. 
I'm  forty-two,  and  you " 

She  blushed  resentfully,  for  at  that  moment 
she  felt  twenty,  no  older.  Nevertheless,  some- 
thing in  her  downcast  face  must  have  encour- 
aged him. 


Those  Brewster  Children        205 

"Won't  you  take  pity  on  me,  dear?"  he 
entreated.  "  I'm  old  and  ugly  to  look  at,  I 
know;  but  I  "want  you,  Evelyn." 

She  would  have  answered  him  then ;  the  words 
trembled  upon  her  lips. 

"  Aunty  Evelyn !     Aunty  Evelyn !  " 

The  two  shrill  little  voices  upraised  in  urgent 
unison  pierced  the  confused  maze  of  her 
thoughts.  She  looked  around,  not  without  a 
wilful  sense  of  relief  to  see  the  two  older 
Brewster  children  running  toward  her  brand- 
ishing a  muff,  which  she  presently  recognised 
as  one  of  her  own  cherished  possessions,  un- 
missed  as  yet  since  her  brief  visit  with  Eliza- 
beth. 

"  Mother  found  it  on  the  floor  after  you'd 
gone,  an'  she  said  for  us  to  run  after  you  an* 
give  it  to  you,"  Carroll  began,  with  a  large 
sense  of  his  own  importance.  "  Doris  wanted 
to  carry  it;  but  I  was  'fraid  she'd  drop  it  in 
the  wet.  I  didn't  drop  it,  Aunty  Evelyn;  but 
Doris  threw  some  snow  at  me,  an'  it  got  on 
the  muff,  an'  I  stopped  to  brush  it  off.  I 
thought  we'd  never  catch  up." 

Doris  had  snuggled  her  small  person  between 

Mr.  Hickey  and  Miss  Tripp,  where  she  appro- 


206        Those  Brewster  Children 

priated  a  hand  of  each  in  a  friendly  and  im- 
partial way. 

"  I  guess  girls  know  how  to  carry  muffs  bet- 
ter'n  boys,"  she  observed  calmly.  "  Carroll 
was  too  fresh;  that  is  why  I  threw  snow  at 
him." 

"  Why,  Doris  dear,  where  did  you  ever  learn 
such  an  expression  ?  "  murmured  Miss  Tripp, 
vaguely  reproving. 

Doris  gazed  up  at  her  mentor  with  an  ex- 
pression of  preternatural  intelligence. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know,"  she  explained ; 
"  folks  is  too  fresh  when  they  make  you  mad, 
an*  make  you  cry.  Who  made  you  cry,  Aunty 
Evelyn?  Did  Mr.  Rickey?  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  find  out  for  me,  Doris,"  said 
that  gentleman  gloomily.  "I'd  give  anything 
to  know." 

Miss  Tripp  gazed  about  her  with  gentle  dis- 
traction, as  if  in  search  of  an  entirely  suitable 
remark  with  which  to  continue  .the  difficult 
conversation.  Finding  no  inspiration  in  the 
expanse  of  slushy  street,  or  in  the  dull  houses 
which  bordered  it  on  either  side,  she  turned 
bravely. to  Mr.  Hickey. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  the 


Those  Brewster  Children        207 

children  really  ought  to  go  home  to — to — their 
luncheon." 

Her  eyes  (quite  unknown  to  herself)  held  an 
appeal  which  filled  him  with  unreasoning  satis- 
faction. 

"  You  are  entirely  right,"  he  agreed  joyfully; 
"  the  children  should  go  home  immediately. 
They  must  be  in  need  of  food.  Go  home,  chil- 
dren, at  onca  You  are  hungry — very  hungry." 

"  Oh,  no,  we're  not,"  warbled  Doris.  "  An' 
we  like  to  walk  with  you  an'  Aunty  Evelyn. 
Mother  said  our  lunch  wouldn't  be  ready  for 
fifteen  minutes.  We  won't  have  to  go  home 
for  quite  a  while  yet." 

At  this  Mr.  Hickey  laughed,  more  loudly 
than  the  humour  of  the  situation  appeared  to 
demand.  "  Very  good,"  he  said  firmly ;  "  that 
being  the  case,  I'll  say  at  once  what  I  had  in 
mind  without  further  delay;  for  I'm  anxious 
to  let  the  whole  world  know  that  I  love  you, 
Evelyn,  and  I  hope  you'll  allow  me  to  go  on 
loving  you  as  long  as  I  live." 

The  events  which  followed  immediately  upon 
this  bold  statement  Elizabeth  learned  as  a  re- 
sult of  her  somewhat  bewildered  questionings, 
when  her  two  children,  breathless  and  excited 


208        Those  Brewster  Children 

from  a  competitive  return,  flung  their  small 
persons  upon  her  at  their  own  door. 

"  Now  you  just  let  me  tell,  Carroll  Brew- 
ster, 'cause  I  got  here  first;  Aunty  Evelyn 
said " 

"  We  gave  Aunty  Evelyn  her  muff,"  said  Car- 
roll, taking  unfair  advantage  of  Doris'  breath- 
less condition.  "  And  what  do  you  think, 
mother,  Doris  said  I  was  too  fresh  to  Aunty 
Evelyn,  and  she  said " 

"  Aunty  Evelyn  cried  when  we  gave  her  the 
muff,  an'  she  said " 

"Aunty  Evelyn  didn't  cry  'cause  we  gave 
her  the  muff,"  interpolated  Carroll,  with  su- 
perior sagacity.  "  She  was  cryin'  to  Mr. 
Hickey,  an'  he  said " 

"  He  said  he'd  give  me  most  anythin* — a 
great  big  doll  with  real  hair  or  a  gold  ring, 
or  anythin*  at  all  if  I'd  find  out  why  Aunty 
Evelyn  was  cryin'." 

"But,  Doris  dear,  Mr.  Hickey  wasn't  with 
Aunty  Evelyn ;  was  he  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth,  a 
fine  mingling  of  reproof  and  eager  curiosity 
flushing  her  young  face. 

"  Mr.  Hickey  didn't  say  a  big  doll  with  real 
hair,  or  a  gold  ring,"  Carroll  interrupted  in- 


Those  Brewster  Children        209 

dignantly.  "  You  just  made  up  that  part, 
Doris." 

"I  didn't  make  it  up  either;  I  thought  it," 
retorted  Doris.  "  He  said  he'd  give  me  any- 
thin'  at  all,  an'  I  guess  a  great  big  doll  with 
real  hair  is  anythin'.  So  there!" 

"  I  don't  understand,  children,"  murmured 
the  smiling  Elizabeth,  who  was  beginning  to 
understand  very  well,  indeed.  "  You  should 
have  come  home  at  once,  instead  of  stopping 
to  talk  to  Aunty  Evelyn.  Your  luncheon  is 
waiting." 

"  That's  what  Aunty  Evelyn  said,"  put  in 
Carroll  reproachfully,  "  an'  Mr.  Hickey  said 
'Go  home  at  once,  children;  you're  very  hun- 
gry.' An'  I  was  going ;  but  Doris,  she  wouldn't 
go.  She " 

*'  I  wasn't  a  bit  hungry  then ;  but  I  am  now, 
an'  I  smell  somethin'  good,"  observed  that 
young  lady,  sniffing  delicately. 

"  She  said  she  wasn't  in  any  hurry,  an'  I 
guess  Mr.  Hickey  didn't  like  it.  Anyway  he 
laughed,  an'  he  took  right  hold  of  Aunty  Ev- 
elyn's hand,  an'  she  cried  some  more." 

"  She  didn't  cry  'cause  he  squeezed  her  hand. 
She  said  '  I  thought  you  didn't  really  like  me.' 


210        Those  Brewster  Children 

-Ail'  Mr.  Hickey .  Now  don't  int'rupt,  Car- 
roll; it's  rude  to  int'rupt;  isn't  it,  mother?  Mr. 
Hickey  said  'Yes,  I  do  too!'  Jus'  like  that 
he  conterdicted." 

"  An'  then  Doris  said,  *  it's  rude  to  conter- 
dict,'  right  out  to  Mr.  Hickey  she  said.  That 
was  an  awful  imp'lite  thing  for  Doris  to  say; 
wasn't  it,  mother?  I  said  it  was." 

"  But  Aunty  Evelyn  said  sometimes  it  wasn't 
rude  to  conterdict.  An' — 'n'  she  said  she  was 
glad  Mr.  Hickey  conterdicted;  'cause  she  was 
'fraid  he  wasn't  goin'  to;  an'  then " 

"  She  told  us  to  run  along  home  an'  tell  our 
mother  she  was  very  much  mistaken  this 


mornm  . 
u 


No ;  she  said  to  say  our  mother  was  perfec'ly 
right,  an'  she  was " 

"Well,  that's  jus'  exac'ly  what  I  said.  What 
did  Aunty  Evelyn  mean,  mother?  An'  why 
did  Mr.  Hickey  make  her  cry?  " 

Elizabeth  wiped  a  laughing  tear  or  two  from 
her  own  eyes.  "  I'm  glad  Aunty  Evelyn  found 
out  that  I  was  right,"  was  all  she  said.  "  Now 
come,  children,  and  let  mother  wash  your 
hands.  Celia  has  baked  a  beautiful  ginger- 
bread man  for  Carroll's  lunch  and  a  beautiful 


Those  Brewster  Children       211 

gingerbread  lady  for  Doris  and  a  cunning 
little  gingerbread  baby  for  Baby  Dick." 

"  Oh,  goody !  goody ! "  shouted  the  children  in 
ecstatic  chorus. 

In  a  trice  their  singular  encounter  with  Aunty 
Evelyn  and  Mr.  Hickey  was  forgotten  in  eager 
contemplation  of  the  more  obvious  and  imme- 
diate future  of  the  gingerbread  man,  the  gin- 
gerbread lady  and  the  gingerbread  child; 
each  of  whom,  plump  and  shining,  reposed  in 
the  middle  of  a  pink  china  plate,  their  black 
currant  eyes  widely  opened  upon  destiny. 


AFTERWORD 

IT  will  be  easily  perceived  by  the  intelligent 
reader  that  there  really  isn't  any  end  to  this 
story.  The  chronicler  is  forced  to  leave  the 
problems  of  the  Brewster  parents  unsolved  in 
many  details,  while  the  Brewster  children,  in 
company  with  the  present  generation  of  young 
Americans,  are  still  growing  up; — growing 
up,  it  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped,  into  better  men 
and  women  than  their  parents.  Stronger  phys- 
ically, more  alert  mentally,  of  clearer  vision; 
better  fitted  to  carry  the  world's  burdens  and 
direct  the  world's  activities.  Unless  the  Brew- 
sters  accomplish  this  much  for  their  children 
they  have  failed  in  the  greatest  thing  given  them 
to  do;  for  it  is  not  more  wealth,  better  houses, 
finer  raiment  that  the  world  is  crying  out  for, 
but  better,  healthier  and  more  inspired  men  and 
women.  And,  clearly,  it  rests  with  the  fathers 
and  mothers  as  to  whether  their  children  shall 
reach  this  higher  level  toward  which  humanity 
weakly  struggles  with  tears  and  groans.  Is 
212 


Those  Brewster  Children        213 

love  and  brotherhood  to  rule  in  a  world  wherein 
all  the  finer  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  find 
room  to  grow  and  flourish?  Or  is  humanity  to 
go  on  its  old,  old  weary  way,  hating  and  being 
hated;  the  strong  trampling  the  weak  under 
foot;  the  child  often  suffering  from  ignorance 
and  injustice — even  in  its  own  home ;  and  grow- 
ing up  to  carry  on  the  same  false  ideas. 

There  is  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides  of  this 
question  of  child  government,  and  the  writer 
of  this  little  tale  does  not  even  pretend  to  have 
said  the  last  word.  But  let  this  much  be  re- 
membered :  "  Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the 
child,"  was  spoken  in  the  days  when  polygamy 
and  concubinage  were  the  rule  in  the  home. 
"  Folly  is  bound  up  in  the  heart  of  the  child ; 
but  the  rod  of  correction  shall  drive  it  far 
from  him,"  was  the  dictum  of  an  age  whose 
customs  would  not  be  tolerated  in  these  days 
of  higher  civilisation  and  more  illumined  vision. 
The  rack  and  the  thumb-screw,  the  gag,  the 
branding-iron  and  the  scourge  have  passed;  we 
shiver  at  the  mere  mention  of  the  tortures  in- 
flicted upon  human  flesh  in  those  past  ages  of 
darkness ;  yet  "  the  rod  of  correction  "  is  still 
tolerated — nay,  even  complacently  advocated 


214        Those  Brewster  Children 

in  our  homes,  though  it  has  been  routed  from 
our  schools.  Isn't  it  out  of  date?  Doesn't  it 
belong  in  the  museums  with  those  ancient  and 
rust-eaten  instruments  of  torture? 

Listen  to  this  other  saying,  from  a  newer  in- 
spiration, a  closer  fellowship  with  The  Light 
of  the  World:  "There  is  no  fear  in  love;  but 
perfect  love  casteth  out  fear,  because  fear  hath 
punishment;  and  he  that  feareth  is  not  made 
perfect  in  love."  And  this,  from  the  fountain- 
head  of  all  wisdom :  "  And  He  took  a  little 
child  and  set  him  by  his  side  and  said  unto 
them,  *  Whosoever  shall  receive  this  little  child 
in  my  name  receiveth  me;  and  whosoever  shall 
receive  me  receiveth  him  that  sent  me;  for  he 
that  is  least  among  you  all,  the  same  is  great.*  * 

I  submit  this  to  you:  Is  it  possible  to  con- 
ceive of  Jesus  Christ  as  striking  a  little  child? 


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